


I’ll Be the Fight to Your Flight, Baby.

by ObligatoryNasty



Series: High School AU [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abuse, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bruises, Bullying, Choking, Crying, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Porn with Feelings, SoftBoy!Peter, Starker, Threats of Violence, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex, Underage Smoking, Violence, badboy!Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObligatoryNasty/pseuds/ObligatoryNasty
Summary: Peter Parker is constantly bullied and can't stand up for himself. Tony Stark is a notorious bad boy, who's feared and misunderstood. Somehow, they're exactly what the other needs.-This work is available inRussian, translated by Ao3 user snowkido! <3
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: High School AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1655212
Comments: 18
Kudos: 506





	1. I'm Yours

The school day was always the same for Peter – bus, class, lunch, class, bus – and peppered in there was always a good dash of bullying. Not that it was a surprise. He was a spectacle after all; possessing a much smaller frame than his cohorts, thick-rimmed glasses, zero fashion sense, a squeaky and high-pitched voice. He knew he was softer than the other kids too; more sensitive, an easier target, more likely to choose flight over fight. He knew that when Clint and Natasha tripped him in the hall, or when Bucky and Sam vandalized his locker, or when Flash called him names, they were doing it because his weak reactions made for a good laugh.

Peter wouldn’t say it didn’t bother him – because it did! It really, _really_ did. Each teasing microaggression, each shove in the hall, each jab at his self-esteem made him want to run and hide. Bury his face in his hands so no one would see the tears pouring from his big brown eyes. But he didn’t. Instead, he endured it. Ignored it or pitifully laughed along with it to ease the sting of being socially ostracized. He didn’t want them to see him cry.

Even now, as Thor and Loki mocked every word Peter said to Ned from their place at the adjacent lunch table, he tried his best not to let it get to him.

“Don’t pay attention to them, dude,” Ned shook his head and shrugged, “They’re being assholes.”

“Okay,” Peter said with a forced smile, trying with all his might to ignore the relentless mockery. “So tell me more about the Lego Death Star? How many pieces is it?”

Thor’s roaring laughter cut through the bustle of the lunchroom. “ _Tell me more about the Lego Death Star_ , brother!”

Loki snickered, shooting Peter a wicked grin, “What would you like to know? _How many pieces it has_ or, perhaps, how happy I am that my mommy bought me a child’s toy?”

Peter bit the inside of his lip, a tactic he used to hold back his tears. And Ned must have noticed because he turned to the older boys with anger in his eyes and said, “Can you guys just lay off? We aren’t even bothering you.”

“Brother, did you hear something?” Thor looked around, making a show of just how little he cared about Ned’s anger.

“Not at all, brother,” Loki laughed, playing along with his brother’s ignorance, “Tell me, what have you heard?”

“If I’m not mistaken, it had the distinct sound of a squealing pig!” Thor erupted in more laughter. His callous joke making every table in their vicinity burst into laughter of their own. And, if their sick humor was targeted at Peter, then he wouldn’t have opened his mouth. But it was directed at Ned and that was unforgivable.

“S-Shut up, T-Thor!” Peter yelled over the rambunctious crowd, his hands shaking and his heart pounding with fear as he, for the first time, chose fight over flight. His voice definitely cracked and his words held no real threat but, in the moment, it was exhilarating. Despite his fear, the crowd still went silent. Their faces stunned because Peter Parker never raises his voice. And just as Peter started to feel as though he’d won, it was ripped away from him.

“ _S-Shut up, T-Thor!_ D-Don’t talk to me and my pig like that!” Loki dramatically mocked Peter’s voice, bringing the crowd and Thor back into their laughter.

And Peter bit his lip again, hard enough for a faint coppery taste to rush his mouth. His eyes stung, and the trembles from his hands traveled up his arms and engulfed his entire being. He was upset, but his nerves kept him from choosing fight again. Instead, he stood from the table and ran. One foot in front of the other towards the cafeteria doors. Wanting nothing more than to escape the vicious scrutiny of his teenage peers.

But then, Peter was falling. His foot catching on some unidentifiable something and his face careening towards the off-white linoleum tiles. The impact hurt; more to his pride than to his body. And the laughter was louder, especially when Peter turned to see Clint’s outstretched foot and Natasha’s smug grin. Still, Peter chose flight. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to feet, and didn’t bother to look back as he finished his sprint to the doors.

Even in the calm of the hallway, Peter didn’t stop running. His body buzzed with an intense need to put as much distance between himself and his bullies as he could. His eyes were burning with the need to cry. His heart hurt and his mind was filled with flashbacks of every single time he endured, ignored, and struggled in silence. So he ran, and the only thing with the power to stop him was the sturdy chest of Tony Stark.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, Parker!” Tony yelled, making Peter flinch backward.

Out of all the people in the school, Tony Stark was the most fearsome. The most blood-hungry. The most respected. No one wanted to be on Tony’s bad side. The last guy who managed to piss him off doesn’t even go to the school anymore. Peter still remembers the day when the guy left on a stretcher, swearing up and down that Tony had nothing to do with it. But Peter knew, and so did every other student.

“S-S-Sorry, To-Tony. I-I didn’t- I w-was- I-” Peter stuttered, unable to get a coherent word out underneath the terrifying boy’s gaze.

Tony scoffed with an amused grin on his face, “S-S-Sorry, To-Tony.” He repeated with a laugh, bringing his hand up to flick Peter squarely on his forehead. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Parker? Just fucking speak.”

Peter brought a hand against his forehead, holding the spot where Tony’s finger connected. The dull throbbing pulled at his very last shred of self-control. He couldn’t take it anymore. His eyes betrayed him first as tears began waterfalling down his cheeks. Next was his voice. It turned to sobs and whines – all breathy and weak and embarrassing – but he couldn’t care. His body was the next to go. His frame visibly trembling and his hands covering his face as he just _cried_. Pathetically, and in front of Tony Stark.

“What the fuck, Parker?” Tony scoffed, “It was just a flick. Don’t be a little bitch about it.”

But Peter couldn’t stop his tears.

“Why the hell are you crying? Fuck-” Tony’s tone changed, dropping to something softer and a bit more frantic. “Seriously, Parker, quit it.”

But the tears kept flowing.

“Fucking hell. Just-! I’m sorry- just stop. Fucking stop-” Tony was rambling and if Peter wasn’t so lost in his overwhelming emotions, he would have taken notice of Tony Stark’s uncharacteristic apology.

“Peter.”

That did it. Peter finally glanced up, surprised to see a worried face staring down at him. He parted his lips, wanting to speak, wanting to say something – because _holy shit_ , Tony Stark just apologized _and_ called him Peter – but no words came. Instead, his eyes went wide and his tears stopped pouring and the wetness on his cheeks began to dry as he stared up into the taller boy’s dark eyes.

It was Tony who had the guts to break the silence. “Sorry,” He mumbled, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and looking away from the shorter boy. “I wouldn’t have done it if I knew you were going to cry like that.”

Peter’s face went hot. “I-I…um, it’s okay. I’m sorry for- I didn’t mean to run into you like that.”

“It’s whatever,” Tony shrugged, his eyes carefully moving back to Peter’s and his voice soft and worrisome. “You mad?”

Peter was floored by the older boy’s wary energy. He had never spoken to Tony before – mainly due to the horror stories of the vicious bad boy who only spoke with his fists – but now, Peter was starting to doubt them. “It wasn’t you!” Peter shook his head, his nervous stutter melting away as he became more comfortable in Tony’s presence. “I mean, the flick hurt but it wasn’t what caused it. I was already upset.”

Tony’s eyebrow shot up, “What upset you?”

“I just get picked on a lot.” Peter gave a weak laugh. His arms moving across his body in a self hug like he was trying to disappear. “It’s not a big deal.” Peter lied.

Suddenly, Tony’s hand was against Peter’s hair, threading through his brown curls in a gentle patting motion. The touch made Peter’s shoulders jump up in surprise but he didn’t move. It was soothing and kind and Peter thought of it as Tony’s way of comforting him.

“Who picks on you?” Tony asked, leaning down to be at eye level with Peter and never stopping his soft touch. “I’ll fuck them up.”

Peter gasped at the proximity. Tony was close enough to kiss – why Peter’s mind went there, he didn’t know. “Y-You don’t have to do that.”

“No,” Tony shook his head, “I think I do.”

“But why?” Peter whispered, scared to speak too loudly with Tony’s face so close.

“’Cause I like you, Peter.”

A warm hue crept up Peter’s face and his stutter came back with the vengeance. “W-Wha-? What are you- You l-like me?! We’ve n-never spoke before! W-Why do you l-like me?”

“Don’t know. I just do.” Tony grinned, “And I hated seeing you cry. So, I’ll ask again, who the fuck picks on you? Name some names, baby, and I’ll make sure they don’t even breathe in your direction again.” A wild look filled Tony’s eyes. “Shit, if you said so, I’d make sure they never breathed another breath.”

Peter stared at Tony with bewildered eyes. Not only did Tony Stark just confess, but he threatened to kill Peter’s bullies and he called Peter baby. _Baby._ Peter couldn’t believe this was even happening. “I- I don’t- um… I-”

“You know what?” Tony stood upright and threw his arm around Peter’s shoulder. “Come on.” He started towards the lunchroom, towing a reluctant Peter at his side. “You can just point those bitches out. I’ll drag their stupid faces across the floor and then, me and you, we can have lunch together.”

“T-Tony, wait. I don’t- I can’t go back in there.” Peter felt his eyes begin to sting again.

“Don’t you worry one bit, baby.” Tony didn’t stop walking, instead, he pressed a quick kiss against Peter’s temple. “I’ve got you.”

The kiss sent a wave of goosebumps across Peter’s skin, and despite his nerves, he let Tony pull him along. He felt safe, held against the older boy’s side with a protective arm around his shoulders. He liked it. He liked him. “Okay.”

Tony smiled, “That your answer then?”

“To what?” Peter asked as they rounded the corner towards the cafeteria doors.

“To being mine.”

“Being yours?” Peter blushed again, “Isn’t that a bit possessive?”

“Probably, but I can’t help it. When I see something I want, I take it. And I really want you, baby.”

Peter giggled at Tony’s brutally candid words, “Okay, sure. I’ll be yours.”

“Perfect,” Tony placed a hand against the double doors. “Now, you better not change your mind when you see me fight for you.” He smirked, “I’ll try not to make it too bloody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my Tumblr @obligatorynasty


	2. But You're Mine Too.

Peter didn’t know how to feel.

When Tony threw the cafeteria doors open, the chatter of the room went silent. Though the whispers remained; all gossip about why the school’s most fearsome student was resting his arm around the most fearful student’s shoulders. It was strange for Peter to be the center of attention for something other than ridicule. Along with the shocked expression on Ned’s face, cliques of curious eyes glanced back and forth between the slew of tables. All looks filled with confusion and intrigue and – for a certain pair of brotherly bullies – absolute terror.

All the younger boy had to do was point. And he did, with a shaky finger and wary eyes, directing his unhinged – _boyfriend?_ – to not only the guilty brothers’ table, but to Clint, Natasha, Bucky, and Sam’s as well.

“Is that all of them, baby?” Tony whispered, his face close enough that Peter could feel his warm breath tickling his surely flushed ear. The sensation sent chills down Peter’s spine – but in a good way – like the airy feeling he got in his stomach when Ned and MJ dragged him on roller coasters with giant drops.

Peter gave a demure nod, “Y-Yes.”

Tony’s wild eyes were breathtaking, especially paired with that mischievous grin and the way he cracked his knuckles like warning signs to his prey. Or the way he pulled off that signature jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders like he was staking his claim. Or the way he so nonchalantly quipped about not wanting to ruin the leather with some degenerate’s blood, so _hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back._

And Peter could do nothing but stand there – engulfed in the leather that smelled of cigarettes and pure, unfiltered Tony Stark – watching as the notorious bad boy reminded each and every student in the cafeteria of just how fearsome he could really be.

Tony’s rampage began with one stunned Clint Barton, ripped from his seat by a forceful grip on his collar. The irony of being thrown against the very spot he tripped Peter lost on him. Likely due to the wind being knocked out of his lungs as he careened towards the off-white linoleum tiles with a hefty _thud_ and, subsequently, a symphony of startled gasps and excited chants of _Fight! Fight! Fight!_

Now, Clint wasn’t someone who would take a beating lying down. Peter had seen him fight before; win against people bigger than him and intimidate people smaller. So, when Tony dropped down and managed to get in three punches so quick and so forceful that Clint couldn’t react, Peter’s jaw dropped. Tony’s promise of not making it too bloody consumed by sight of Clint’s very bloody nose.

“What the fuck, Stark?!” It was Natasha – _poor Natasha_ – trying to stand up for her partner in crime, not knowing she would be next on the rampage list. The second she stood from her seat, Tony released his hold on Clint’s collar, leaving it stretched out of place and watching Clint pitifully grasp his nose in pain. Then, Tony stood, facing Natasha head-on and flashing his smug, bad boy grin.

“What the fuck, Romanoff?” His words were laced with belittling humor and a wild brand of confidence that Peter couldn’t fathom.

“Don’t do that.” Natasha glared, her brows furrowing at Tony’s complete lack of fear towards her. “What the fuck did he do to piss you off?”

“He didn’t piss me off. Not directly at least.” Tony’s laughter was unnerving, “You see, your boy here managed to piss _him_ off,” He pointedly said, as he gestured over to Peter, who was still standing by the doors with a bewildered look on his face. “And _he_ belongs to _me_ now. So, let’s say when he’s pissed, I’m just pissed by proxy.”

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” Natasha’s words were sharp, but Tony was sharper.

“Let’s ask then,” Tony leaned forward against the table, his palms down and his knuckles up like he was brandishing a bloodied sword, staring at Sam and Bucky with his intimidating glare. “Why don’t you two tell me, hm? Did Barton do something to Parker?” His question was brimming with venom, and thus, met with zero hesitation.

“Yes, he tripped him.” Sam stood, pulling Bucky to his feet as well and expressing so much _fuck-this-shit-I’m-out_ energy that Peter had to stifle a laugh. “Me and Bucky are really sorry for our involvement in all of this, and we would very much like to keep all of our bones intact. Thank you.” Sam looked to Natasha, “Nat, you are on your own with this one.” With that, he was fleeing, towing Bucky behind him as they made their way out the cafeteria, muttering something along the lines of: _People really out here fucking around with Tony Stark like he didn’t send just someone to the ER last year. What a bunch of idiots._

“Fucking cowards.” Natasha spat, rolling her eyes and giving an angry sigh when Tony smirked at her. “Fine!” She exclaimed, turning to Peter with forced sincerity. “Sorry,” She said flatly, and with a peeved grimace, before turning back to Tony with an expression that showed just how thoroughly done she was with the whole situation. “Happy now?”

But Tony didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned to Peter and smiled as he repeated Natasha’s sentiment. “Happy?”

Peter froze for a moment, his frazzled mind whirring into overdrive, trying to comprehend the weight of Tony’s question. It was like a wild animal asking the leader of its pack for permission to hunt. Like Peter’s answer was the only thing standing between Natasha and the full power of Tony’s wrath. So Peter nodded and mouthed a nervous, “Yes.”

“Wow, how lucky for you,” Tony said, giving Natasha a look so dark that it sent chills down Peter’s spine in the bad kind of way. “Don’t waste it, Red.”

Tony’s threat lingered in the way he carelessly stepped on Clint’s struggling frame as he made a beeline to his last targets: Thor and Loki.

“Don’t bring your violence over here, Stark.” Thor weakly warned, flinching up from his seat like a cornered animal, posturing in a final attempt to scare off its predator. His reaction was perplexing, especially since he was bigger than Tony. He seemed to have more muscles, more stature, more height, yet he still looked frightened. So, even though Peter’s natural response was worry, Thor’s fear and Tony’s unfazed smirk eased his concerns.

“I’ll bring my violence wherever I damn well please, Point Break.” Tony taunted, wasting no time in shoving both Thor and Loki’s lunch trays off the table, gaining him a resoundingly loud and drawn out _Daammn!_ from the surrounding crowd of students.

Loki stood up next, posturing just like his brother, “You think we’re scared of you, Stark?”

“Oh, you will be.”

With that, Tony’s rampage continued. But this time, it was less _controlled threats_ and more _all-out brawl_ that summoned a flock of rowdy students, eager to watch the carnage.

Before the crowd grew, Peter managed to see Tony land two satisfying jabs to Loki’s face that left Thor scrambling to retaliate. It was all too surreal; the savage look in Tony’s eyes, the speed of his punches, the way he bobbed and weaved around his opponents’ hits like a trained boxer. All the people egging on the fight like spectators at the Colosseum; encircling them like Thor and Loki were the poor fools thrown into the lion’s den and Tony was head of the pride.

Soon, the fight was impossible to see. The students were so enthralled that they stood on tables to witness it. And Peter knew from the screaming and the general disregard for school policy that it would probably go down as one of those legendary Tony Stark fights. Peter’s body buzzed with curiosity. He wanted to watch too, but he found himself unable to move.

Remember, Peter didn’t know how to feel. His eyes traveled to Clint, struggling as Natasha helped him to his feet and clutching the spot on his abdomen that Tony used as a stepping stone. It was brutal, and Peter knew that. He knew he shouldn’t feel glad that Clint was hurt. He shouldn’t get excited about Sam and Bucky scurrying away like frightened mice. He shouldn’t enjoy the scared look in Thor and Loki’s eyes. He shouldn’t – _he knew that_ – but he did.

Because Tony Stark was fighting for _him_ , and that sort of thing just goes to a person’s head.

Peter was pulled from his thoughts by Ned, who was pushing through the crowd to reach his friend. “Dude! We need to go! Someone said Principal Fury was called.” He didn’t stop. He just grabbed Peter’s arm and dragged him through the cafeteria’s double doors.

The hallway was also beginning to swarm with students – kids leaving their classes in droves, trying to witness the fight for themselves. “Okay, so since when are you and Tony Stark friends?”

“Since like a half-hour ago?” Peter shyly admitted as Ned stopped with him in the hall, standing to the side so they didn’t get trampled by the rush of students.

“What?!” Ned practically screamed. “He’s beating the shit out of Loki and Thor _right now_.” He stressed, “For _you_ , dude! _For you!_ And you’ve only been friends for a half-hour?!”

“Actually, ‘friends’ might not be right either.” Peter nervously laughed, scratching the back of his head and giving Ned a guilty look.

“Dude, what happened?” Ned’s eyes went wide. “And please don’t say you sucked his dick for protection.”

“Whose dick are we sucking for protection?” It was MJ, exiting the flow of students, throwing her arms over Peter and Ned’s shoulders, interjecting on their conversation with her classic witty smirk.

“Tony Stark’s,” Ned laughed.

MJ joined the laughter, “Is that why Peter’s wearing this?” She tugged on the leather jacket still draped over Peter’s shoulders. “Did you swallow?”

“Oh my god! MJ! I-I didn’t s-suck his dick!” Peter’s face flushed red in his embarrassment. “I just- I mean, I guess...um- I _belong_ to him now.” His voice cracked because that felt weird to say. He _belonged_ to Tony Stark – someone that he barely knew – yet, instead of his usual urge to flee, his body craved to stay.

“I see,” Ned nodded. “First, the brutish show of strength, then-”

“The dick sucking.” MJ joked.

Peter crossed his arms, “No! I- He just- He made me cry – well, not directly – but then he patted my hair and k-kissed my forehead and, suddenly, I was just _his_ , okay?”

“I think it’s romantic,” Ned nodded.

“I think it’s problematic,” MJ deadpanned.

Peter just shrugged, inching away from MJ’s hold. “W-Well, I think it’s my decision.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Pete.” MJ became defensive. “We can joke about sucking dick, but Tony Stark is fucking dangerous. We all know it. May I remind you that he broke that Hammer kid’s bones last year, he constantly skips classes, and he smokes.” She punctuated each point with a count of her fingers and ended her rant with a firm, “Say it with me: _pro-ble-ma-tic be-hav-iors_.”

“Okay, scratch the romantic thing,” Ned shook his head and stepped closer to MJ, physically signaling his position on the matter. “MJ has a point, dude. I’m on her side.”

“There are no sides!” Peter furrowed his brow and let out a frustrated huff. “You guys just didn’t see what I saw in him.”

“Dude, do you even hear yourself?” MJ rolled her eyes, “We’re talking about Tony – probably stabbed a guy – Stark. What could you have possibly seen in him besides gratuitous violence and penchant for starting shit?”

“I saw how kind he really is!” Peter exclaimed, furiously shaking his head, dismissing MJ’s level-headed red flags. Sure, Tony was violent, but somehow, Peter knew he must have a good reason for it. “I saw it, MJ. How caring he is. How he isn’t this fearsome bad boy everyone makes him out to be.”

And Peter’s sentiment was sweet – naive, but sweet – but, unfortunately for him, it was immediately undermined by one student’s passing words: _Did you hear? Stark broke Loki’s arm._

“Hey!” MJ called out to the student. “Is that true?”

“Yeah, there’s a video and everything.”

**~*~*~**

After the chaos died down and students were herded back into their classrooms, Peter was sent to the Principal’s office. He didn’t know why – well, that’s not true, he had a guess – but he didn’t want to overthink it. Everyone was already looking at him funny. Whispering fables under their breath: _That’s the kid that Stark broke Loki’s arm for. Wonder what he had to do to put Stark on a leash. Bet a little slut boy like him would put out for anyone. Shush! He belongs to Stark now. Don’t talk to him. Don’t let him hear you. He’ll sick Stark on you._ Rumors were spreading. Fast. Painfully fast.

And the jacket wasn’t helping either. For a fleeting moment, the leather was comforting, but now, it just felt heavy. Yet, even as he ripped it off his shoulders, he couldn’t bring himself to leave it behind in the classroom. It was Tony’s after all. So, as Peter traveled down the hallway, he held the leather close to his chest.

The administrative office door was propped open, and the scene inside was shocking, to say the least. Sitting in a row of chairs, outside the Principal’s door, were a handful of Peter’s bullies; an annoyed Natasha, a bruised Clint, a bloodied Thor, and Loki, whose arm was tucked against his chest in a sling. Describing them as ‘pissed’ wouldn’t do their collective expressions justice, and – _holy shit_ – did Peter want to run. But he couldn’t. So he stood by the door, clutching Tony’s jacket like a safety blanket. Awkwardly, and beneath the unsettling glares of his bullies.

As the minutes ticked by, Peter’s anxiety ran high. Principal Fury’s assistant was busy phoning a list of names – seemingly all parents arranging for their child’s pick-up. Peter wondered if he was on that list too? Did someone name him as the cause of the fight? Did Aunt May already know? _God_ , he wanted to leave.

Then, Principal Fury’s door swung open and Tony stepped out beaming, despite the bruises on his cheek or the blood drying on his knuckles or the rip in his t-shirt. “Fury wants you next, Red,” Tony flashed the same unnerving smile as before. And, even though Natasha rolled her eyes, she still nodded to him before disappearing into the office.

Tony turned his attention to Peter next, “Hey, baby.”

Peter blushed at Tony’s nonchalant use of the pet name. He wasn’t used to it yet. In fact, he wasn’t used to Tony yet. In terms of confidence, Peter and Tony were on opposite ends of the spectrum. Tony knew what he wanted and expressed it, powerfully and without pause. Peter couldn’t even handle the pressure of wearing a jacket.

“Come out here for a sec,” Tony threw his arm around Peter’s shoulders and, despite Peter’s resistance or the protests of Fury’s assistant, he managed to lead him out of the office.

“T-Tony! Wait! S-She was upset. I should go back in.”

“She’ll get over it.” Tony shrugged and held out his hand expectantly.

“Um, right! Here you go.” Peter mumbled, glancing over the older boy’s battered hand before giving him the signature leather. “A-Are you okay? Your hands are-”

“I’m fine.” In one motion, Tony threw on the jacket. “I’m about to leave. Come with me.”

“I-I...um, but s-school isn’t- I was called-” Peter stammered, staring at Tony’s shoulders and the way they seemed broader in the leather. The jacket somehow perfected his strangely attractive – _disheveled and slightly bloody –_ aesthetic, and Peter couldn’t look away.

“You were called? Oh – _shit_ – I thought you were in there for something else.” Tony sighed, “Fury’s probably going to send you home too. I’m sorry.” Another rare Tony Stark apology.

“I-Is it because of the rumors?” Peter whispered, dropping his gaze to the floor.

“Rumors?” Tony’s brow raised as he placed a finger on Peter’s chin and tilted it upward to lock gazes. “What rumors?”

Peter gasped at the contact. Tony’s hand felt so warm – or maybe it was the heat flushing Peter’s face – he didn’t know, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he just let Tony touch him; let him idly drag his fingers across the length of Peter’s jaw; let him caress the underside of Peter’s chin; let him ghost his palm around the contours of Peter’s throat; anything. And judging by the satisfied grin that appeared on the older boy’s face, he was pleased with the pliant behavior.

“Don’t get distracted, baby,” Tony smirked, bringing his hand upwards to cup the side of Peter’s tinted face. “What rumors?”

Peter squeaked – yes, fucking _squeaked_ – and who wouldn’t? Tony Stark was touching him and talking to him in that suggestive tone. And Peter didn't think that simple touches like those could feel so good. Yet, here he was: feeling good. He took a shallow breath and answered, “P-People are saying that you- um... broke Loki’s arm for _me_.”

“What?” Tony’s grin fell, and so did his grip on Peter’s chin. “I did not _break_ that bitch’s arm. He’d be in the fucking hospital by now if I did that shit.” Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I just dislocated it a little, then I put it back – sometimes I don’t even do that – but trust me, if I wanted it broken, it would be broken.” Then, he paused, his eyes gleaming with a chilling excitement and the corner of his lips mischievously turning upward. “Why?” He whispered, “You want me to break it?”

Peter didn’t know how to feel. The calm way Tony said that should have alarmed him, but instead, the younger boy found himself mirroring the older’s excitement. His mind wandering through the possibilities of playing gatekeeper for Tony Stark’s ferocity. His body buzzing from its inherent power because Peter was fucking tired of being bullied in the high school cesspool. So, of course, the thought of enacting that vicious power gave him a heady kind of rush, but still, it was scary.

So Peter resisted it, shaking his head, “No, I-I don’t think that would be okay.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Tony shrugged and shoved his hands into pockets. “But my offer stands.”

Peter gave a small nod and a hesitant, “T-Thanks.”

“Anything for you.”

Peter blushed at Tony’s casual and blind devotion. He couldn’t understand it. How this boy whom he never spoke a word to could risk himself so readily, especially if it landed him in Fury’s office.

“Wait, so if Principal Fury isn’t sending me home for the rumors, t-then why-?”

Tony let out a spiteful _tsk_ , “Fury’s got this zero-tolerance policy for fighting. Everyone involved is going home on a day’s suspension _except for you Stark. You get a week._ ” He dryly mocked Principal Fury’s voice.

“A week?!” Peter repeated with a gasp. “That’s terrible.”

Peter was right. It was terrible. Who would protect him from the scourge of retaliation? Sure, his bullies seemed to fall in line now – with Tony’s threatening presence ever-looming – but what happens when he leaves? Peter didn’t want to think about it.

“Y-You can’t leave for a week.” Peter’s eyes burned a little, the fear of being without Tony’s protection slowly seeping out of him and thoughts of taking Tony’s offer seeping in.

“It’s whatever. Even if I was here, I’d skip the classes.” Tony smiled, gently bumping his hand against Peter’s arm. “So, come with me. I promised to eat lunch with you after I cleaned up the trash in there.”

Peter dropped his gaze again, twiddling his thumbs as his nerves bubbled over. “I c-can’t. I w-was called and I don’t- I can’t-”

“Fine, fine, don’t make that face.” Tony brought his hand against Peter’s head, softly carding his fingers through the curls in that same soothing motion as before. “Here,” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and handed it to Peter. “Give me your number. If you get sent home, text me and I’ll come pick you up. Okay?”

“O-Okay.”

**~*~*~**

Just like Tony predicted, Principal Fury gave Peter a day’s suspension. Mostly because he refused to name the bad boy as the instigator of the fight, which was already a strange ask. As Peter recalled, everyone had a video of the brawl. _Everyone._ Even Ned and MJ sent him clips of it. Yet, according to Fury, whenever someone tried showing the school faculty the video, their device would be wiped clean by some virus called ‘JARVIS’. So, without any real evidence, Tony was safe from expulsion.

After the meeting, Fury’s assistant called Aunt May. She was upset – and rightly so – promising Peter a stern talking-to, a loss of privileges, and an early curfew for the remainder of the week. Unlike the other parents, she was too busy with work, so she told Peter to walk home and _think about what you’ve done, young man._ And he guiltily agreed, knowing that Tony would be driving him instead.

With a quick text, Tony was on his way; _k baby, b there in 5mins._

Even the way Tony sent messages made Peter feel anxious, and that anxiety followed him down the halls, to his locker, and finally to the front of the school, where Tony was parked and waiting. His car was just like him; sleek and dressed in black with tinted windows so dark that Peter had to be inches away to see inside them. It was expensive too; low to ground, sporty with shiny chrome rims, and branded with a luxury logo Peter’s never seen before. And anybody who was anybody would know that this car was a perk of being Howard Stark’s son.

“Hey,” Tony smiled as he rolled down the passenger side window. “You getting in or what?”

Peter blinked himself out of his drifting thoughts, “Um, y-yes! Sorry,” He mumbled as he fumbled with the car door, threw his backpack into the foot space, and slid into the passenger seat with little to no grace. Noticing the warmth of the car first, the faint smell of cologne next, and Tony’s soft eyes on him last. “Your car _is_ \- um, i-it’s nice!” His voice cracked and his gaze flickered around the car, symptoms of the nerves that swarmed his body when his eyes would meet Tony’s.

“Thanks. Stole it from my dad’s garage.” Tony’s honest laughter cut through the nervous atmosphere Peter’s mind was fabricating. “So, where do you want to eat? Pick anything. Let me treat you.”

Peter blushed, his arms instinctively moving around his body in a self hug to soothe his stress. “You don’t have to do that.” He whispered, shaking his head. “You already did a lot for me today, and I- um, I want to treat y-you!”

“Wow, Parker,” Tony raised his brow but grinned, “ _You_ want to treat _me_?”

“Yes,” As Peter’s anxiety eased, his words became clearer. “Anything you want – well, maybe not anything – I guess anything under thirty dollars would work. What would you like?”

Tony let out a light huff of breath that ended in a sly grin that was nothing if not suggestive. “I can think of a lot of things that I’d want from you, baby.”

Tony’s confidence was showing and, just like that, Peter’s stutter was back and paired with tinted cheeks and bashful eyes. His brain processed the flirting but left him without a coherent output, so he settled for a frantic and embarrassing, “I-I-I…um- I- w-what?”

“I can show you exactly what later.” Tony ended it there, seemingly changing the subject for Peter’s sake, but his flirty smile remained. “Let’s just grab some pizza and head to yours. That okay?”

“Y-You want to come over to m-my place?” Peter’s grip tightened at his sides as he rambled. “You wouldn’t like it- I mean, my room isn’t- I’m sort of a nerd, so- No one really comes over, except for Ned and MJ, but they know- I just- I don’t know if you would-”

“Peter.” The smooth way Peter’s name fell from Tony’s lips was enough to silence his apprehensive chatter, but the eye contact was what did him in. “Is that okay?” Tony repeated.

Peter nodded, “O-Okay, yes, but y-you have to leave before seven.”

“Yes, sir,” Tony jokingly said as he revved the engine and pulled away from the school. “But why seven?”

“Oh, um...my Aunt May will be home by then.” Peter sighed. “And she’s pretty upset, so I shouldn't have company.”

Tony audibly tsked, “Why is she upset? It’s not like you did anything.”

“I got _suspended_ ,” Peter stressed, crossing his arms and averting his eyes. “I’ve never been suspended before, especially not for being a part of a fight.”

“Oh, sorry,” Tony quietly said as he clutched at the wheel, keeping his eyes trained on the road. “You mad?”

“No, not really,” Peter shook his head. “Aunt May is mad – and I’m definitely going to get an ear full – but it was worth it. I think.” He explained, “Seeing you fight was- um, it was really cool, like watching a boxing match or something. You seem trained.”

Tony nodded, “Yeah, I kind of have to be.”

“For fights?” Peter questioned, his eyes drifting across the older boy’s scabbing knuckles.

“Yeah, my old man made me take up boxing when I was young.”

“He _made_ you? Did you not want to?”

“It’s not that,” Tony shrugged, ending the conversation like Peter stepped on his toes.

Then, they drove in silence. An awkward and deafening kind of silence – filled with the hum of Tony’s engine and whoosh of the passing scenery – but deafening nonetheless. Tony seemed off, his lips pressed in a hard line and his eyes fixed on the road ahead. The peeved energy radiating off the older boy made Peter feel tense like he was a sweater fraying at the seams. And, despite his best efforts, Peter couldn’t stop the way his body shook underneath that nerve-inducing pressure.

Until Tony clicked on the radio, that is.

Sounds of high tempo drumming, shredding guitars, and strong voices overtook the silence. It was rock ‘n’ roll, and it brought out a silly side of Tony that Peter didn’t expect. As they swerved through traffic, the older boy confidently belted out every lyric, passionately singing at the top of his lungs with a bright smile. Headbanging with each beat, turning to sing to Peter at every red light. One hand atop the steering wheel and the other emphasizing the emotion of the song through a mixture of air-guitar strums, fist pumps, and rhythmic taps on the center console. Needless to say, Peter was sent into a fit of laughter that melted his tension into nothing.

“What?” Tony laughed too. “You don’t like my music, baby?”

“I like it.” Peter blushed and shook his head, “Led Zeppelin is amazing.”

“Okay, excuse you, we respect AC/DC in this car.” Tony grinned, “I hope your pizza tastes are better than your music knowledge.”

**~*~*~**

As Tony parked the car, Peter’s heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. He wasn’t nervous at the pizza place, where Tony’s arm was draped over his shoulders as they ordered, or during the ride here, where Tony’s hand found its way to Peter’s knee. Yet, something about being outside his apartment building forced Tony’s earlier words to the forefront of Peter’s frazzled mind.

_I can show you exactly what later._

With something like that hanging in the space between them, Peter didn’t know what to expect.

The smell of Tony’s cologne intensifying snapped Peter from his thoughts. The older boy pulled his key from the ignition and leaned across Peter to grab a cigarette pack from the glove compartment – and _wow, he smells amazing_ , Peter thought as Tony hopped out of the car. The slam of the door prompting Peter to hastily scramble out of the car as well. He gripped his backpack against his chest with one arm and cradled the pizza box with the other, stepping out into the cool air.

“So, um, this is my apartment building.” Peter’s voice squeaked and he hated it.

“I see that,” Tony smirked, pulling a plastic lighter from his pocket to light a cigarette. “I’ll save my applause for the actual apartment.”

“R-Right.” Peter watched as Tony leaned against the brick of the building. He was handsome, even when inhaling death and sporting bloodied knuckles and torn shirt. “Um...T-Tony?”

“Yeah?” Tony asked as he exhaled a puff of smoke that quickly dissipated in the space around him.

“I- um, what do- are we- why did-” Peter mumbled, his mind cycling through mountains of questions he wanted to be answered but finally settling on, “Why me?”

“What?” Tony gave a perplexed smile as he took another drag and blew it from the corner of his mouth. “I told you already,” Tony took a final inhale of smoke, before flicking the cigarette against the concrete and exhaling a gray, “I like you.”

“B-But why?” Peter pushed.

“Does it matter?” Tony shrugged as he entered the building, stopping to hold the door for Peter, who frantically scurried inside.

“I-I think it does,” Peter added as he led Tony upstairs and down the hall, stopping by his apartment door to reach for his key, but he couldn’t quite reach it with a backpack and a pizza box to hold. “You said I’m yours but-”

Without warning, Tony dipped his hand into Peter’s pocket, slowly and with a gentle drag against Peter’s thigh. The younger flinched, the unexpected contact effectively interrupting all trains of thought, save for the one in charge of his blushing cheeks, and hitching breath, and tensing muscles. And those feelings only intensified as Tony hooked the keyring but left his hand lingering. Using a gentle touch to caress through the pocket’s thin inner fabric and stepping closer, pressing the warmth of his body against Peter’s back.

“You looked like you were having a tough time there, Parker.” Tony’s voice was close enough that his scent of smoke filled Peter’s senses. “Here, let me.” And, as Tony pulled the keyring out and unlocked the door, all Peter could do was grip his backpack a bit tighter and will himself back to a semblance of calm.

“Now,” Tony flashed a knowing grin. “What were you saying, sweetheart?”

And Peter simply shook his head because – _fuck_ – being called sweetheart shouldn’t make his heart do that and it certainly shouldn’t make his dick do that. “N-Nothing, come in.” He whispered and practically dashed into the apartment, distancing himself from the captivating warmth of Tony’s chest.

The apartment was homey; perfectly sized for two with coffee table clutter, arrays of family photos adorning the walls, and faint aromatic remnants of Aunt May’s morning coffee and Peter’s accidentally burnt toast. To Peter, it was warm and familiar, but today, it lacked those relaxing effects because of one curious bad boy’s eyes surveying the space.

Peter placed the pizza box against the dining table, fetched two plates from the kitchen cabinet, and settled in a chair. “So...um- this is the apartment.”

“It’s nice,” Tony said as he gestured towards the photo wall. “My old man hates that kind of stuff.”

“Family photos? Same.” Peter smiled, a light laugh escaping his lips. “May refuses to take those down.”

Tony shrugged as he slid into a chair. “They’re not that bad. That one of you at the science fair is pretty cute.”

“Oh god, not the science fair one. ” Peter mumbled, tipping his face into his hands, hiding his embarrassment. “I looked so terrible that day. No one told me that my hair was sticking up like that.”

“The hair is the best part.” Tony laughed and flicked open the pizza box, grabbing a slice and slumping against the back of the chair.

“Okay, that’s enough about me,” Peter grabbed a slice as well, taking a tiny bite before continuing, “What about you?”

“What _about_ me?”

“I d-don’t know.” Peter glanced at the photos again. “Have you ever done a science fair?”

Tony shook his head, “No, my old man says those are for kids that want to be placated by science, not challenged.”

“Ouch,” Peter jokingly remarked. “I’ve done the science fair every year since elementary.”

Tony laughed, “I’m unsurprised.”

“H-Hey!” Peter giggled. “At least I was doing something. What were you doing?”

“Nothing much,” Tony took a bite of his pizza and fixed his gaze on the floor. “My old man taught me lab stuff, I guess.”

“Lab stuff?”

“Yeah, like coding and shit.” Tony shrugged, “I don’t really talk about it.”

“Coding?” Suddenly, something clicked in Peter’s mind. “Did you code the JARVIS virus that Fury was talking about?”

“Virus?” Tony glanced up. “Is that what Fury called him?”

“Him?”

“Yes, _him_.” Tony rolled his eyes, but his expression beamed. “JARVIS is my AI.”

“That helps you not get expelled?” Peter smirked.

“He can do way more than that.”

And their conversation traveled from there. Over pizza slices, connecting on nerdy topics like programming JARVIS and the processing power of the Stark lab’s computer. And Peter, knowing the extent of Tony’s truant record, was pleasantly surprised by the bad boy’s brilliance. As their chat shifted to Tony’s delinquency, he talked fights, and scars, and riveting stories involving police stations. Then they tripped through favorite video games, books, TV shows, and movies. Peter explained why lego movies are worth the watch and Tony teased but promised to watch it with him _but only if we’re eating popcorn and under a blanket, baby._

It ended once the clock hit five and the pizza box went empty and Peter’s homework could no longer wait.

“That’s fine.” Tony stood, grabbing the empty box and their two plates. “I’ve got this. Go start your homework.”

Peter nodded with a smile, “Thanks.” He grabbed his backpack and started toward his room, but panicked once he opened the door. The realization that Tony Stark would soon be in there hitting his peace of mind like a nuclear bomb. He threw his bag against his desk and tornado-ed around his room, cleaning up his embarrassment one neglected pair of floor boxers at a time. He didn’t need Tony seeing that picture of him at summer camp and he was sure his stuffed bear would forgive him for throwing it into the closet.

“Hey, I left the pizza box by the door, I’ll take it out when I leave so your aunt doesn’t suspect anything- what are you doing?” Tony paused in the doorway, shooting Peter a raised brow and an amused grin.

“H-Homework, obviously.” Peter nervously said as he shut his closet door and awkwardly crossed the room to sit at his desk.

“Is that right?” Tony repeated with crossed arms as he approached Peter, stopping just behind his chair. “Your desk looks awfully empty, baby.”

Peter shook his head, frantically grabbing notebooks from his backpack and placing them onto the desk. “I-It looks fine to me.”

“Sure, Parker.” Tony laughed and leaned forward to drape his arms over Peter’s shoulders, hugging him from behind. “Whatever you say.”

Peter flinched at the sudden closeness, his mind flashing back to his previous concerns about the speed of Tony’s affection. “Tony?”

“Yeah?”

“E-Earlier, I was saying that...um- you said that I’m yours, but what-”

“Peter, I like you.” Tony interrupted, gently tightening his embrace. “Simple as that. I fell for you today, and _yes_ , it was fast – really fucking fast, I get it – but the point is that I fell.” He ended his sentiment with a swift kiss to Peter’s cheek. “Focus on that, baby.”

Peter cursed his body for its constant blushing and quickened heartbeats, but he smiled anyway. “O-Okay.”

After that, Peter did his homework in peace, while Tony resigned himself to the comfort of Peter’s bed, falling into a nap that lasted until the clock hit seven; lasted until Peter was whispering his name to ease him awake; lasted until they were hugging to say goodbye.

_I had a great day today, Tony._

_Me too, baby._

**~*~*~**

“I am so disappointed in you, Peter,” May shook her head as she stepped into her work shoes by the front door. This was her fourth parental lecture since yesterday night and it featured all the same points: _Fighting? Really, Peter? Really? You’re lucky you got off with only one day of suspension. What were you thinking? You know better than this. No leaving this apartment, understand? I want you to do your chores and your homework and think about what you’ve done, young man._

“I know, May.” Peter nodded. “I messed up. It won’t happen again.”

“It better not.” May sighed, giving Peter a sympathetic smile as she pulled him into a tight hug. “Love you, and I’ll see you after work, okay?”

“Okay, love you too.”

With that, Peter was alone and turning around to head back into his room – resign himself to his punishments, do homework, think about what he’s done – but then, there was a knock. And, like any normal teenager, he squinted at the door as if it was his one true adversary, cautiously stalking towards it to peek through the peephole. Surprised to see, standing just beyond the threshold, a leather-clad Tony Stark.

Peter swung the door open, “W-What are you doing here?”

“Happy suspension day. This is a kidnapping.” Tony smirked, stepping forward to lean against the doorway. “Get your shoes, Parker.”

“My shoes?” Peter stared incredulously at the bad boy. “Tony, I have stuff to do- I can’t go anywhere- I-”

“Did you miss the part about the kidnapping?” Tony brought his hand up against Peter’s chin. “I’ll take you even if you don’t get the shoes, baby.”

Peter rolled his eyes but couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at his lips or the feelings that tugged at his heartstrings. “O-Okay, hold on.” He ran into his room, donning shoes and a warm baggy sweatshirt. He didn’t know where they were going – with Tony, it could be anywhere – but that was part of his bad boy charm.

“I got shoes,” Peter announced as he sauntered out of his room and back towards the front door. “Now, where are we going?”

“Kidnapped people don’t get those kinds of privileges.” Tony smiled, watching as Peter locked the front door before throwing his arm around his shoulders. “Just follow me.”

Peter let Tony guide him out of the building and to a car he didn’t recognize. A gray sedan with chrome rims and, when the front windows rolled down, it revealed a car filled with people he didn’t recognize either.

They were all teens but not from Tony and Peter’s school. They seemed different; richer. The guy in the driver’s seat was burly with a letterman jacket and an innocent face. The girl in the passenger seat had a perfectly pony-tailed updo and air of class that matched her cashmere sweater. The taller boy in the back was a lot like Tony, sporting a leather jacket and an inherent coolness that made his smile seem sly. The shorter boy wore glasses and a plaid button-up that reminded Peter of himself.

“Took you long enough.”

“And I’ll take longer next time if you keep that up, Happy.” Tony laughed as he opened the backseat door and slid in, motioning for Peter to sit on his lap.

“Y-Your lap?” As per usual, Peter’s voice cracked under pressure.

“Hurry up, new kid, either you sit there or I do.” The glasses-wearing boy spoke with a seriousness that compelled Peter not to dwell.

Peter scooted onto Tony’s lap and he angled himself so that his legs sat between Tony’s and his back was slightly turned towards the door. He tried his best to position himself – _modestly?_ – and prevent any accidental touches, but then Tony’s arms were around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Happy tends to drive a little crazy,” Tony whispered, his voice only inches from Peter’s ear. “So I’ve got you.”

“O-Okay,” Peter blushed as he leaned against Tony’s chest, easing against the warmth and slowly inhaling the fresh shampoo scent wafting from his hair.

“So, are you going to introduce us or should we fend for ourselves here?” The boy with the sly smile spoke.

Tony laughed, “Peter, this is Happy, Pepper, Rhodey, and Bruce.”

“Did he kidnap you all too?” Peter jokingly remarked.

“Basically,” Bruce joined the jest. “A suspension for one is a skip day for all.”

“A Tony Stark creed,” Rhodey said and Pepper readily agreed, saying, “Did you know the T in Tony is the same as the T in Truancy?”

Peter giggled, “Is that true, Tony?”

“No,” Tony smirked, giving Peter a light squeeze that made the younger boy giggle. “They just like me so much that they flock to me. Anything else they say is a lie.”

And as Happy drove, there was more laughter, and faces brimming with smiles, and lighthearted jokes thrown back and forth. It was easy for Peter to find comfort in this space, even while sitting in Tony’s lap. In fact, by the end of the drive, he was leaning against Tony like he belonged there; like sitting in his lap was second nature.

Peter peeked out the window as Happy parked the car. “The park?”

“Best place to loiter,” Tony said as he opened the door. “And smoke.”

“Oh god, remember when we smoked in your dad’s lab?” Bruce rolled his eyes as he hopped out of the car with the others following suit. “That did not go over well.”

Tony shrugged. “Better than how shit with him usually goes.”

Peter tugged on Tony’s sleeve and whispered, “You two were smoking in the lab?”

“Tony!” Pepper gasped, “You didn’t tell him?”

“Full disclosure, new kid,” Bruce smiled as he pulled a vape from his pocket. “Me and Tony used to fuck – he’s got grade A dick, just so you know.”

Tony laughed and Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m not as eloquent as Bruce, but Tony and I also used to date.” She pushed at Tony’s arm, “Tony should have told you before dragging you out with us.”

And Peter tried to play it cool. All shrugs and nonchalant expressions of how fine with it he was. Yet, as they began walking the path through the park, he couldn’t stop his mind from playing the comparison game. Pepper was beautiful – beyond beautiful – with long legs, poise, and an immaculate style that made Peter feel self-conscious his baggy sweatshirt. When it came to Bruce, confidence was in endless supply. He was shameless and, after just one conversation, Peter also found out how insanely smart he was. So, needless to say, Peter was feeling pretty low in the self-esteem department.

But leave it to Tony to turn that low into a high. “Walk with me?” He asked, but wasted no time in gathering Peter’s hand in his own. “You seem quiet now. Are the trees not doing it for you?”

“It’s not that. The park’s nice,” Peter shook his head and gently squeezed Tony’s hand. “I’m just too nervous for my own good, I guess.”

“That’s part of your charm, baby.”

Peter smiled, “I-I’m sure you’re just saying that, but thanks.”

“I mean it,” Tony brushed their shoulders together. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “I-Is it that obvious?”

“A little,” Tony explained. “You made a similar face yesterday too. So what’s wrong?” He smirked, the same dark and mischievous smirk as before. “Do I need to put someone in their place?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” Peter laughed and moved to walk closer to Tony. “But um...actually, now that you mention it, can you drop me off at school this week?”

“Sure, not like I’m doing anything. Why?”

“ _Safety?_ ” Peter shrugged. “I think people might do something to me if you’re not there.”

“Oh _fuck_ , right. I didn’t think about that. Hold up,” He stopped on the path, letting the others walk ahead as he pulled off his jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders. “Here,” Tony smiled and cupped Peter’s face in his hands. “Wear this and no one will fuck with you and, if they do, I’ll kill ‘em.”

Peter smiled, but before he could say anything, Tony was leaning in – and _holy shit, it was a kiss lean!_ He panicked and squeezed his eyes shut, his nerves erupting as Tony’s smell got closer and closer and – _oh_ – he kissed his forehead.

The moment was sweet, but quickly soured a random passerby who felt the need to yell _faggots!_

“The fuck did you just say?!” Tony went from zero to beyond one hundred, snapping on the random man without a second thought.

“You heard me.” The man challenged, “What are you going to do about, huh?”

And things happened fast. Too fast for Peter to process. One moment, the man was standing and the next, he wasn’t and Tony’s fist was the culprit. Again, it was an outburst of violence that left Peter not knowing how to feel.

“Tony!” Peter gasped and reached his hand out, grabbing at the fabric of the bad boy’s shirt in a weak attempt at holding him back. “S-Stop it!” He shakily said, watching Tony carefully as the man scrambled to his feet, running off as Happy and Bruce jogged back over.

“What happened?” Bruce asked, his face full of concern.

“Tony hit him,” Peter whispered as he slowly let go of Tony’s shirt.

And, before anyone could get another word in, Tony was walking off, fuming like a smoking gun that failed to kill its target.

“Tony, man, wait up!” Happy ran after him.

“Don’t mind him. He’s always like that.” Bruce bumped his shoulder against Peter’s. “Either you get used to it or you end up like me and Pep.”

“I don’t want that,” Peter whispered, his eyes locked on Tony and his fingers fiddling with the hem of the leather jacket.

“Don’t want what?” Bruce raised his brow. “To deal with Tony’s anger issues? Same.”

“N-No! Not that.” Peter shot Bruce a stern glance. “I don’t want to be like you and Pepper.”

“Oh, wow! Okay.” Bruce laughed, harder than he has all day. “I can see why Tony likes you.”

“At least one of us does.” Peter trained his gaze on the floor. “I still don’t understand why Tony likes me.”

Bruce shook his head, “Tony is fucking unhinged. He’s a vicious fighter; a delinquent through and through, but he’s also sweet and uncomplicated. If you’ve given him the space to be anything other than, well, _that_ ,” He paused, gesturing over to Tony, who was slumped against a park bench with a cigarette perched between his lips. “Then he’ll like you. ”

“What do you mean?”

“All Tony cares about is being understood, and if you’ve given him that, he’ll protect you. Violently protect you..” Bruce placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “The question is whether or not you can handle that violence.”

“He’s not that violent.” Peter pulled his shoulder away, stepping back, his voice becoming taut. “He protected me. He stood up for me.”

“Look, Tony _empathizes_ with people who can’t fight back.” Bruce shoved his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “And sure, at first, you feel like he fights to protect you; to keep all the bad shit away; to _stop bullies_ , but then he goes too far. He loses control and expects you to be his limiter. He wants you to be the one who tells him when to stop and when to go, when to hurt people and when to spare them. I couldn’t deal with that shit and, after everything that happened with Justin, Pepper couldn’t deal either.”

“Justin?”

“Yeah, Justin Hammer, the kid Tony put in the hospital.” Bruce sighed, glancing over his shoulder to make sure the rest of the group were out of earshot before continuing. “Long story short: Justin used to hang out with us but, during some party, he touched Pepper while she was drunk. Pep cried about it and Tony lost it. The next day, he broke both of Justin’s arms, fractured a few ribs, and left blood and bruises everywhere else.”

Peter crossed his arms and spoke under his breath, “Sounds like Justin deserved it.”

Bruce audibly _tsked_ and flashed a knowing look. “ _That’s_ why Tony likes you.”

And Peter didn’t know how to feel.

**~*~*~**

The school day was always the same for Peter – bus, class, lunch, class, bus – and peppered in there was always a good dash of bullying.

But not today.

No, today, he wore Tony’s jacket. It was big on him; the sleeves covered his hands completely, save for his fingertips that peeked out the bottom when his arms were at his sides. The black leather contrasted with his blue jeans and his plaid button-up, but today, he wore it confidently because it was Tony’s way of protecting him.

From the moment Peter got off the bus, the jacket was like a force field. Not only preventing the usual teasing and ridicule from the nameless students but also managing to stop repeat offenders like Flash, who glared at him like he was going to say something but turned the other way instead.

And, with the power of the jacket, came the slight ego boost. The unbothered gait into the school, the comfortable smile as he forged the crowded hallways, the lack of fear, even as he rounded the corner to find Sam and Bucky standing at his locker. They made eye contact and gestured for him to come over and, on a regular day, Peter would probably run and hide; try his best to avoid his locker until absolutely necessary.

But, again, not today.

Today, Peter strolled over to his locker without even an ounce of worry – well, his hands were trembling in his pockets and he was already biting the inside of his lip – but he liked to think he was projecting a calm demeanor. “Yes?” Peter spoke softly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“We wanted to...um-” Bucky looked to Sam.

“To say sorry for everything.” Sam finished Bucky’s sentiment. “And, if you’re interested-”

“Steve is having a party at his house on Friday night.” Bucky chimed in with a smile.

Sam nodded, “And you’re invited, Parker.”

Peter’s eyes went wide. _He_ was invited to a Steve Rogers party? Him; a nerdy, skittish, bullied nobody, who could only ever dream of being cool enough to go to a fucking Steve – famously popular quarterback – Rogers party. _Like what the fuck?_

“Really? M-Me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answered, lightly chuckling at Peter’s reaction. “You can bring a friend too if you’d like.”

“You in?” Sam asked.

Peter nodded, his eyes still wide with disbelief but his mind chalking it up to the power of the jacket. “Yeah, I’ll... um- I’ll be there.”

“Great, see you later, Peter.” Bucky waved as he and Sam disappeared down the crowded hallway.

“Okay, but are you actually going?” It was MJ, leaning against the lockers with crossed arms and a doubtful stare.

“MJ!” Peter flinched at her sudden appearance. “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

“Like this!” Ned screamed, making Peter flinch even harder. This time he dropped his textbook and clumsily spun on his heel to face the source of his terror, and it threw MJ into a fit of laughter.

“Dude!” Peter exclaimed with a big smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Ned grabbed the dropped book and glanced at MJ. “So, what are we scaring Peter for?”

“He got invited to a party full of assholes.” MJ pointedly said. “And he said he’s going.”

“A party?” Ned raised his brow, ignoring MJ’s concerns and shooting his best friend an excited look. “What party?”

“A Steve Rogers party.” Peter excitedly whispered.

“Dude!” Ned’s jaw dropped, “That jacket must be magic. Can I borrow it for the Calc test today?”

MJ rolled her eyes, “You guys are unbelievable.”

**~*~*~**

“Steve invited me to a party.” Peter rolled against the carpet, propping his head up against his arm and glancing up from his textbook. “It’s on Friday night.”

“Rogers did?” Tony asked, shifting against the sheets, peeking off the edge of the bed at Peter. “You going?”

“I think so,” Peter smiled up at Tony, idly fiddling with the pages of his notebook. “B-But I don’t want to go by myself.”

Tony smiled back, “Are you asking me out on a date, baby?”

“N-No,” Peter blushed. “ _Maybe._ ”

Tony smirked, “Well, I’ve got a thing on Friday night.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, my old man is holding this fucking investor event at our house. I’m not trying to piss him off,” Tony sighed. “So I can’t miss it, but I’ll show up at Rogers’ place after.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged, “We can just meet each other there.”

“Just don’t get too drunk without me.” Tony laughed and sat up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. “Are you done with your work yet? We should play some video games or something before your aunt gets back.”

“You know I can’t.” Peter lifted his notebook. “I have to finish this.”

“Let me see.” Tony tapped the bed beside him.

“It’s this one.” Peter shifted up onto his knees and put his notebook on the bed. “I’ve checked it over and over and I can’t-”

“You rounded wrong here.” Tony pointed at the paper. “Take the ceiling, not the floor.”

“Oh?” Peter squinted, his eyes scanning across his work. “Oh! That’s it! How did I miss that?” He smiled, fixing his mistake and looking back up to Tony. “Wait, can you help with this one too?”

“I mean, that’s just all wrong. Give me that.” Tony grabbed the pencil and started making corrections. “You need to make sure you use the right function here and don’t forget the extra square on this one.”

Peter laughed, “I’ve been stuck on these for hours and you finished them in two minutes.”

“It’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever. I really appreciate it.” Peter smiled, “I think smart Tony is the coolest Tony.”

“As opposed to what?”

“Naps-all-afternoon Tony?” Peter joked but gazed up at Tony with a look of concern. “Why _are_ you always so sleepy?”

“I don’t sleep well at home.”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony whispered as he brought his hand against Peter’s cheek. “I just sleep better here.” His hand moved to Peter’s chin, drawing a slow line from the spot just below Peter’s lip to the hollow of his collarbone. “Because the bed smells like you.”

“Tony,” Peter gasped, realizing too late what kind of position they were in. He was on his knees, and if he inched sideways, he would be between Tony’s legs. His face went hot and, judging by the smile that worked its way to Tony’s lips, his blush was apparent.

“Yes, baby?” Tony’s voice was full of tease as he brought his hand back up to gently tap his fingertip against Peter’s bottom lip. “You want something?”

“I- um...I-” Peter froze, watching with bewildered eyes as Tony leaned in – _yet another kiss lean!_ So Peter instinctively tensed, his eyes flickering shut as his nerves took hold of his reactions once again.

And Tony stopped just before their lips touched.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Tony whispered, shifting upward to press a quick kiss on Peter’s forehead before pulling away. “Here,” Tony grabbed the pencil again. “I’ll help you with the rest of this and then we can play some games. Deal?”

“Deal.”

**~*~*~**

The next day was different.

Tony was quieter – _angrier?_ – Peter couldn’t tell, but he knew it had to be caused by the small bruise darkening on Tony’s cheekbone. It was a rare sight; a mark on the face of the undefeated bad boy. And Peter wanted to ask about it, wanted to know if Tony was okay, but the silence was suffocating. In the car, the older boy didn’t say a word – no playful flirting, no rock ‘n’ roll jam session – just silence. So, Peter followed suit, letting his nerves go wild as they made their way to his apartment.

As usual, once Tony parked, he reached for his pack of cigarettes and got out of the car. Peter hastily made his own exit, keeping his eyes trained on Tony’s expression. The older boy wasn’t just quiet, he was outright irritable. That was made clear by the scowl twisting on his face. He was clumsier too, and frustrated with the smallest things, like accidentally dropping a cigarette into a sidewalk puddle or his cheap lighter refusing to spark. He was all huffs and grumbles and refused to say a word.

With a new cigarette perched between his lips, Tony furiously pulled at the spark-wheel. Once, twice, three times, but it just didn’t catch. Peter wanted to say that Tony could smoke in the apartment – Aunt May was bound to have a lighter sitting around somewhere – but the Tony’s furrowed brow and waning patience was just as suffocating as his silence.

So, again, Peter remained silent.

It was only after what seemed like the thousandth, or millionth, flick of the wheel that Tony finally spoke, or rather yelled. “Fuck it!” He exclaimed as he spiked the lighter against the sidewalk with enough force to shatter the plastic. The outburst made Peter’s shoulders jump and his gaze drop to the concrete.

“Let’s go,” Tony mumbled, paying Peter no mind and stuffing the cigarette back into the pack before stomping his way into the building.

This part was also very different. He didn’t hold the door for Peter. He didn’t pester Peter about having fun before studying. No video games, no TV, not even one of those intimate chats he loved so much. He just went right into Peter’s room, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed against the middle of the bed.

For a short while, Peter didn’t bother him. He sat at his desk, pulled out his notebooks, his laptop, and textbook, and started his homework. Yet, he couldn’t finish the first problem, or the second, or the third. His brain refused to focus because it was tethered to everything happening with Tony. All of the older boy’s sighs, the soft clicks of his tongue, the shuffle of his leather jacket against the covers as he tossed and turned. And, while Peter still couldn’t find the courage to speak, he couldn’t keep doing nothing either.

Tony needed him, so the homework could wait.

Peter slowly stood from his chair, careful to keep it from making noise as he approached the grumbling mess on his bed. His nerves were screaming, and his heart was beating so fast and so loud that he could hear it in his ears. And his hands were shaky, and his throat felt tight, and his mind taunted him with replays of Tony’s standoffish behavior; the silence, the irritability, the sudden outburst.

Yet, despite all that, Peter still scooted up onto the bed, sitting just below the pillows with the side of his thigh only an inch away from Tony’s hair. And wow – _Tony’s hair_ – Peter has never touched it before, but he found himself instinctively carding his fingers through it. Gentle and soothing pats, just like Tony does to him.

And Peter watched with wary eyes as Tony flinched but immediately settled into the touch. That wordless way of relaxing was all the encouragement Peter needed. So, he continued, rhythmically dragging his fingers through the short locks and smiling as the older boy moved to rest the back of his head in Peter’s lap.

Peter kept his right hand in Tony’s hair, but placed his left against the older boy’s chest, idly drawing circles on his t-shirt. The moment was long, but Peter didn’t mind. He continued until Tony’s eyes were closed, and his brow wasn’t furrowed, and his scowl had gone away.

Then, Peter found his voice. “What happened?” He softly whispered, gently skimming his fingertips across Tony’s bruised cheekbone.

The question made Tony’s brow knit, but the soft caress of Peter’s hands relaxed it away. “My old man.” He paused, letting out another sigh, “He found out about the fucking suspension and the fight and he-” Again, Tony paused. “He just did what he always does.”

“What?” Peter’s eyes started to sting and his hands started to tremble, as did his breath, “Y-Your dad did this to you?” He could barely get the words out. His mind was bombarded with flashes of every moment where Tony avoided questions about his dad and his time at home. How could Peter miss those signs?

_My old man made me take up boxing when I was young. My old man hates that kind of stuff. No, my old man says those are for kids that want to be placated by science, not challenged. Better than how shit with him usually goes. Yeah, my old man is holding this fucking investor event at our house. I’m not trying to piss him off. I don’t sleep well at home._

And it was too much, so Peter cried.

“Hey, don’t cry, baby.” Tony finally opened his eyes, staring into Peter’s teary ones and reaching up to castaway the wetness trickling down his cheeks.

“B-But he- To you, he-” Peter tried to hold back his sobs, biting the inside of his lip and training his eyes on the ceiling to prevent more waterworks. He was supposed to be comforting Tony, not the other way around. “It’s w-wrong. That he d-did this to you.”

“I know,” Tony hummed.

“He’s- He’s your dad. He should _never_ do that.”

“I know.” Tony grabbed Peter’s hand, intertwining their fingers.

“He’s supposed to care about you! He’s-!”

“I know.” Tony lifted Peter’s hand and pressed a kiss against it. “But it’s okay. Don’t cry about it. I don’t even cry about it.”

“Tony, that’s-” Peter shook his head. “Then I’ll cry for you.”

“Peter-”

“It’s okay to be scared, Tony,” Peter whispered.

“I- yeah, I know.” Tony nodded, gently squeezing Peter’s hand. “Thank you, baby, but let’s not talk about that right now.” And, for the first time today, he grinned. His voice was less somber; less grumbly; less full of frustrated huffs. Instead, it was more Tony or, rather, more flirty. “I don’t want to kill this _mood_.”

“This mood?” Peter let out a small breathy laugh and sniffled, “I’m ugly crying, and you’ve been quiet and angry all day. There is no mood.”

“Yeah, I know, but-” Tony paused, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “It’s just- you’re touching me and you don’t usually do that, so-” Tony laughed too, and it was just as breathy as Peter’s. “I’m – _fuck, I don’t know_ – I guess I’m just excited?”

“Excited?” Peter repeated, and Tony answered by gesturing to the front of his jeans, where a clear bulge had formed in the black denim, right beneath the zipper.

Peter’s face went hot, and he stopped his touches because, suddenly, he was attuned to the _mood_ as well. Not only that, but his mind – the same one that secretly admired Tony’s eyes, and Tony’s lips, and Tony’s broad shoulders, and Tony’s smell, and Tony’s everything – yeah, _that_ mind – it made Peter’s own excitement start to stiffen. After all, he was alone in his bedroom – _on! his! bed!_ – with Tony Stark and, _fuck_ , he couldn’t stop glancing at Tony’s zipper. “I- You- You’re-?” Peter stuttered.

“Yeah,” Tony’s voice was more hesitant than usual. “Is that- I mean, are you… okay with it?”

Peter nodded, his flushed face getting redder with each little dip of his chin, “Y-Yes.”

“You sure?” Tony asked again, and Peter nodded again. His big brown eyes darting to his desk, and to his dorky posters, and to his messy bookshelf, and to literally anything else because any spare glance at Tony made his nerves erupt beyond his control.

Tony smiled as he sat up, moving to sit beside Peter and leaning so their shoulders brushed against each other. “I know you get nervous around me.”

“What?” Peter’s voice squeaked. “N-No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. So I’m just going to ask this time.” Tony gave a slight laugh – a nervous laugh, really – as he ran a hand through his short hair and made a look Peter could only describe as cautiously eager. “Can I kiss you, Peter? On your lips this time.”

And, again, Peter nodded because his words never worked when he wanted them to. His body was a bashful, shaky mess, but he was also _excited_ so he shifted against the bed, facing Tony before closing his eyes. And he gasped when Tony’s hand cupped his face and gently caressed the space beneath his ear. And he couldn’t see when Tony leaned in, but he could feel the heated closeness and the warm breath tickling his lips and soft bump of Tony’s nose against his own. He could feel the way Tony angled their heads, each slightly tilted to the right. He could feel the experimental brush of Tony’s lips against his own, so Peter pushed, pressing their lips together in a tender first kiss.

It was sweet, not too wet or too dry, and full of emotion that could make hearts hurt. Peter could tell that Tony had kissed before because, when Peter thought it was time to pull away, Tony deepened. Sucking on Peter’s bottom lip, coaxing his lips apart. This was wetter, Peter thought, but he didn’t hate it. No, in fact, that earlier excitement was now fully hardened and pressing uncomfortably against his jeans. And the way Tony kissed him – now confident and brimming with passion – it didn’t help.

Then, Tony licked into Peter’s mouth, and Peter had to catch a sound in his throat. He didn’t know what the sound was – a moan, a whine, or, _oh god_ , was it a _mewl?_ – whatever it was, he stopped it. There was no way he was going to make needy sounds in front of Tony. He would die of embarrassment, he was convinced, but – _fuck_ – Tony’s other hand was against his thigh now.

So Peter had to stifle another sound – multiple sounds, actually – as Tony’s hand slowly trailed upward. Dragging his fingertips against Peter’s inner thigh and stopping just before Peter’s zipper.

That’s when Tony broke the kiss.

Peter’s head was reeling, and his breaths were heavy because breathing while kissing was oddly difficult. And his face was all but boiling under his endless nerves, and the intensity of Tony’s gaze, and the arousal that bubbled at his core.

“Can I touch you here, baby?” Tony whispered against Peter’s lips. His fingertips grazing Peter’s smooth cheek as he squeezed the inside of his thigh.

And the sultry way that pet name rolled off the bad boy’s tongue sent a wave of goosebumps across Peter’s skin. It was all too much for the younger boy to handle – the kisses, the whispers, the touches – so, he gave in to his urges. “ _Yes_ ,” Peter whined, all needy and high-pitched as he gripped at the bottom of Tony’s jacket like a lifeline.

“Wow, are those sounds for me, baby?” Tony playfully grinned, and pressed his hand against Peter’s zipper, happily watching the younger boy squirm beneath the touch.

Peter gasped, his body instinctively tensing at the spark of pleasure that rushed his senses. Sure, there were two layers of clothes between Tony’s hand and Peter’s budding erection, but it still felt amazing. He nodded as a desperate _Mhmm_ fell from his lips and he used all his willpower to keep his hips from grinding up against Tony’s hand. “ _Tony_ ,” Peter moaned, his half-lidded gaze bouncing between Tony’s hand and Tony’s lips.

Then, they were kissing again. It was deeper; eager; hotter and somehow, Peter found himself being pushed down by the strength of Tony’s hold. His back fell against the sheets and Tony hovered above him. Their mouths unbreaking as Tony’s hand worked at Peter’s jean button, and then his zipper, and soon, Tony was tugging at the waist of the denim.

The sensation of Tony’s trail of kisses from his mouth to his neck was one thing, but thoughts of Tony’s hand stroking him bare were enough to reduce Peter to a breathy, whiny mess.

Tony paused to kiss the spot just above Peter’s collarbone, sucking hard enough that a dark red mark was left in his wake. He pulled away, then, admiring his work paired the aroused expression on Peter’s face. He grinned, his voice playful as he whispered, “You like that, baby?”

Did Peter like this? Yes. He unequivocally liked this. He fucking liked this. He didn’t think the word ‘like’ could even begin to convey how much. So he lifted his hand from the sheets, bringing his fingertips to Tony’s cheek, down his neck, over the collar of his t-shirt, across his chest, and beneath the loose fabric of the bottom hem. He kept his eyes locked on Tony the entire time, watching the small hitched breaths and the barely noticeable flinches as he skimmed his hand up Tony’s shirt.

And just as Tony hooked his finger in the elastic of Peter’s boxers, and Peter parted his lips to answer, the sound of the front door opening rippled through the apartment.

“Peter!” It was Aunt May’s voice. “I’m home early! Are you here?”

_Fuck, May’s back._ A collective expression shared by both boys that killed any and all arousal.

“Yes! Hold on, I’ll be right there!” Peter yelled back, frantically adjusting his clothes and hair and – _oh god_ – he smells like Tony and his shirt didn’t quite cover the hickey on his neck and _why the fuck is May home so early?_ “What do we do?” He whispered in a panic.

“Relax,” Tony smiled, letting out a small laugh. “I’ll just go say hi.” He calmly said as he adjusted himself in the mirror before starting towards the door.

“W-Wait, Tony- I’m- I’m still grounded!” Peter whisper screamed, but that didn’t stop Tony from walking out into the living room, so Peter had no choice but to reluctantly trail behind the bad boy.

“Peter, who’s this?” May asked as she took off her jacket and shoes.

“I’m Tony, ma’am.” He stepped forward, extending his hand. “Tony Stark.”

May smiled and shook his hand, “Nice to meet you, Tony.” She said, flashing Peter an all too familiar _you-are-in-so-much-trouble_ look.

“May, I-” Peter stepped forward. “I can explain.”

“Yes you will, but it can wait until later.” May crossed her arms, “Now, young man, what on earth happened to your face? Sit down,” She guided Tony to a dining chair before disappearing into the kitchen and emerging with a bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “Here, hold this against it.”

“It’s nothing.” Tony shrugged, taking the ice bag with a thankful smile.

May propped her hand against her waist and nodded, “Well, if _nothing_ keeps happening, you come and tell me. Understood?”

“Um-” Tony looked taken aback but, despite his confusion, he nodded, “Okay, yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, and you’re staying for dinner.” May smiled as he turned to place a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “I want to get to know my nephew’s boyfriend.”

Peter blushed, “May!”

**~*~*~**

“Dude, are you sure you’re allowed to be here?” MJ asked as she pulled the car against the curb in front of Steve Rogers’ house. “It doesn’t look like your kind of thing.”

MJ was right. The bass-heavy hitlist was loud enough to hear through the glass of the car window. The lawn was littered with red cups, silver cans, and cars parked carelessly on the grass. Partygoers loitered on the front porch puffing smoke that reddened the whites of their eyes. This party was a far cry from the small movie nights Peter shared with best friends.

“I was invited, MJ.” Peter rolled his eyes, shuffling begrudgingly in the passenger side seat. He knew what she was asking – _will you be okay here, Peter?_ “Tony is coming too, so I’ll be fine.”

“ _Of course_ he is.” MJ sighed, crossing her arms and shaking her head. “But he couldn’t spare some time to bring you here himself.”

“He had something to do with his dad.” Peter dropped his gaze into his lap.

“That doesn’t excuse him,” MJ’s voice was firm, unmoving. “And let’s be honest here. You wouldn’t have been invited if he hadn’t brutalized half of the people in there. Bullies don’t become friendly after being put in their place. They become vengeful. He should be in there with you _now_!”

“MJ, I’ll be fine!” Peter snapped because, even now, he didn’t know how to feel. Tony was violent – he understood that – but he couldn’t stand the constant reminders. “Stop talking about Tony like that!”

“Like what?” She challenged. “Like the guy he is. A violent, privileged asshole like the rest of them, who fights people for no reason, and who’s probably just using you fo-!”

“MJ, stop! You don’t get to talk about him like that! You don’t know him!”

“Oh?” MJ tilted her head and scowled. “And you do? After one fucking week? You think you know him?!”

“Yes! I do!” Peter nearly screamed. “And if you can’t trust me on this one, then just fucking leave!” He threw open the door, moving to get out.

MJ’s face softened and she reached to grab his arm. “Peter, wait! I didn’t mean-”

“No!” Peter put his hands up, silencing her completely. “You don’t get it, MJ!” He paused, biting the inside of his lip, holding back his anger. “You just don’t.”

“Fine, you’re right.” MJ sighed, squeezing the steering wheel and letting her head fall against the headrest. “I don’t get it! I don’t understand why my best friend, who was being tortured last week, would start hanging out with his torturers!” She sighed once more, her hands falling into her lap. “But I do trust you, dude, so I’m sorry. I’m just worried. Something about this whole thing seems off.”

Peter mirrored his friend’s sigh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just a party and, like I said, Tony will be here soon.”

“He better be.” MJ nodded. “Please be safe.”

“I will.” Peter stepped out of the car, flashing a bright smile. “And I’ll be sure to prepare a full report on the inner workings of a Steve Rogers party. Tell Ned.”

MJ laughed, “You tell him, dork.”

Peter joined the laughter, his anger nowhere to be found in the lighthearted exchange. “Thanks again, MJ, for the ride _and_ the worry.”

“Anytime, dude. Call me if you need me.” With that, MJ rolled away, leaving Peter to fend for himself in the unfamiliar landscape of a high school party.

Peter ascended the porch stairs. The front door wasn’t locked or pulled shut and, even if he knocked, he knew no one would hear it over the music pumping from inside. So he took a deep breath and entered the fray. The house smelled of beer breath and fruity vapor laced with the pungent undertones of high-inducing grass. It was dark and foggy and significantly hotter than the brisk outside air. The main entrance was packed with people chatting in groups. Nobody familiar, but the litany of eyes sizing him up said that they knew exactly who he was.

Panic hit quicker than Peter thought it would as he politely excused himself through the crowded hallway. His unmistakable nerves rattling through his body with each careful step. Eventually, he made it to the kitchen, where the only light poured from the dim yellow bulb illuminating the stovetop. The beer smell was stronger here, so was the presence of variously sized glass bottles filled with brown and clear liquids.

“Parker!” It was Sam’s voice. “You made it!”

Peter spun on his heel. Emerging from the crowds was a very stumbly Sam Wilson, who reeked of beer. Behind him was Steve, whose hand was resting against Bucky’s waist.

“H-Hi!” Peter blurted out. “I… um- I just got here.”

“Are you the kid everyone’s talking about?” Steve asked, stepping forward and throwing his other arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Stark’s new owner?”

“I guess,” Peter nodded. “B-But I don’t-”

“Have you had a drink?” Steve asked. “You should have a drink.” He turned to Bucky, pressing his forehead into Bucky’s hair. “Can you get him a drink, babe?”

“Sure.”

And, within minutes, Peter was cradling a beer. The condensation left his palms wet and the taste left his expression in disgust. Beer was nasty, but Steve, Sam, and Bucky were compelling and their ability to attract an audience was even more so. They rallied cheers and chants of _chug, chug, chug_ as Peter downed his first beer ever. The rush of being the center of attention outweighing both his clear mind and the terrible wheaty aftertaste of beers two and three.

It was when Bucky poured the shots that Peter finally asked for a break, but again, they were compelling. So _just this one shot, Peter, and then we can go play some games with everyone_. The vodka was lava down his throat, warming his body and adding to his haze. With Steve’s hand patting his shoulder and Sam’s impressed look because – _damn, Parker can actually hold it down_ – Peter didn’t mind the teeth-numbing lightheadedness or the floaty instability.

After Sam grabbed a full bottle of vodka and Steve took a case of beer from the fridge, Peter was whisked away. Towed along by Bucky as the group pushed their way through the hall and into a room away from the crowds; Steve’s room.

But inside was a nightmare.

Sitting around the room – some on the bed, some on the floor – with drinks in their hands and smirks on their faces were Peter’s bullies; Clint, Natasha, Thor, and Loki.

“Hey boys,” Natasha greeted them with a smile.

“We have the re-up.” Sam joked as he took a spot on the floor, pouring vodka into Natasha and Clint’s cups as Steve handed beers to Thor and Loki.

Peter froze and yanked his hand out of Bucky grasp, his fight or flight instincts screaming at him to turn and leave. “I-I shouldn’t...um- I can’t be in here.”

“Wait a second, Peter.” Bucky placed a hand on Peter’s back, stopping him from leaving and guiding him to a spot on the bed beside Natasha. “They have something to say.”

“Yes, we apologize, Parker,” Thor said, tipping his head and raising his plastic red cup. “We were out of line that day.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “My brother and I regret our behavior.”

“Yeah,” Clint nodded. “Same here, Parker.”

“It’s the same for me, Peter.” Natasha placed her hand on Peter’s back. “I hope you can forgive us.”

Peter was baffled. Even in his tipsy haze, he could see how unexpected this was. His eyes wandered across the group; the gentleness in Natasha’s eyes, the seriousness in Clint’s, the lack of spite in Thor and Loki’s. They seemed _genuine?_ It was strange. “Is t-this why you invited me?” He asked, glancing over to Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve shrugged. “These guys wanted a chance to apologize and we-” He gestured to Bucky, Sam, and himself. “-wanted to hang out with you.”

Peter let out a small laugh, feeling less resentment than he thought he would – maybe it was the buzz of alcohol – he nodded, “Okay, yeah, I’ll forgive you.”

“Fantastic,” Natasha smiled and clasped her hands together, “Now, let’s play some games.”

The first drinking game was simple. A word game that punished those who fumbled their answers and Peter was good at it. The unopened can of beer he held onto was proof of that.

The next game was more of the same. _Never Have I Ever_ in a room of people who have done it all. Peter won by saying he never had a threesome, which took out Sam, Bucky, and Steve all at once. It was funny; in fact, it was hilarious. He found himself giggling with Natasha like she wasn’t the girl who would trip him in the halls. He was bantering with Clint like he was never hurt by him before. He was cracking jokes with Thor and Loki like they never teased him. He was comfortable in a room filled with people he thought he hated and he couldn’t help but laugh.

During the third game, Peter drank half his beer, but Steve and Bucky had it far worse.

“Guys, I have to tap out.” Steve groaned, falling back against the bed. “I’m _drunk_ drunk.”

Bucky laughed, his voice slurring as he crawled to lay beside Steve, “If you’re _drunk_ drunk, I’m _drunk drunk_ drunk.”

Steve joined in on the hysterical laughter. “Well, if you’re _drunk drunk_ drunk, then I’m dr-”

“Okay, you’re both pretty,” Sam interrupted with a smirk. “If they’re out, I’m out.”

“That’s fine,” Natasha shrugged, standing from the bed and gesturing for the rest of the group to follow. “Come on, guys, let’s go play some more in the other room.” She grabbed Peter’s hand, guiding him to his feet. “You too.”

And Peter followed them – Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Loki – to another room across the hall; a guest bedroom, perhaps.

“Hey, Parker,” Thor spoke, his voice a bit taut. “Is Stark coming?”

Peter nodded, still fiddling with his half-empty can. “Yes! He said he would meet me here.”

“I see,” Thor nodded as he bumped his elbow into Loki’s side. “Then maybe we shouldn’t play this game tonight.”

“Or maybe you should stop worrying, brother.” Loki snapped.

“What game?” Peter squinted, holding up his beer can. “Another drinking game?”

“Yeah, another drinking game.” Natasha placed her hands atop Peter’s shoulders. “Trust me. You’ll love this one.” She smiled, taking Peter’s can away and placing it against the dresser as she guided him to the closet door. “All you have to do is go in there.”

“What?” Peter scratched his head. “Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Again, Natasha smiled. “We’ll explain the rules once you’re in there.”

“O-Okay,” Peter mumbled as he took a step into the closet, letting Natasha close the door behind him. It was a walk-in closet that was dark and empty, save for the few boxes stacked on the top shelves. “Alright, what are the rules?” He yelled through the door, but no response. “Hello?” He yelled, but again, no response. He jiggled the doorknob; locked. “Hey, guys? Are you there?” He knocked on the door this time. Still, no response but he did hear whispering.

_Stark is on his way. This is so stupid._

_Suck it up, brother. Stark nearly broke my arm._

_And he fucking stepped on me._

_Sit out if you want, Thor, but we’re doing this._

“Guys, I don’t like this game,” Peter spoke through the door, trying to maintain his calm but his palms became clammy and his fingers started to tremble and dread crept its way up his spine. “Can you guys just let me out?” He bit the inside of his lip. “Please.”

Peter flinched when the door swung open. A glimmer of hope rippled through him but it was quickly overshadowed by the dark expressions on Loki and Clint’s faces. Chills ran through him next as his body screamed, _Flight. Now._ And he tried running between them, tried slipping through their bodies, tried escaping but he couldn’t. Clint grabbed his arm and yanked him into the closet, holding him still despite his frantic thrashing. Loki taunted him – _Serves you right, Parker_ – the merciless laughter burning Peter’s ears. Natasha played lookout, her smile was replaced with a scowl and her words a spiteful: _This is what you get for sicking your dog on us, Peter._ It was when Loki punched him that his urge to run morphed into an urge to survive.

This wasn’t the first time Peter’s been beaten up. The first was in middle school when Flash punched him hard enough to break his nose. So, when the punches continued, Peter knew to turn his head with them and relax his jaw. The second time was during a spring break school trip when he was pushed onto the ground and kicked hard enough to fracture a rib. So, when Clint threw him against the carpet and the sting of kicks burned at his sides, he used his arms to shield himself.

Peter learned from these experiences to tuck his head, bring his knees to his stomach, endure. But it hurt; more to his pride than to his body. And the laughter was louder, especially when Peter opened his eyes to see their smug grins searing into him. How could he be so foolish? How could he trust them? How could he forgive them?

When it was over, Peter was crying and no amount of biting his lip could stop it. He clenched his teeth and scrambled to feet, and didn’t bother to look back as he sprinted out the door.

Even in the party-fueled frenzy of the hallway, Peter didn’t stop running. His body buzzed with an intense need to put as much distance between himself and his bullies as he could. His eyes were burning from all the tears. His heart hurt and his mind was filled with flashbacks of every single time he endured their torture.

So Peter ran, and the only thing with the power to stop him was the sturdy chest of Tony Stark.

“Peter?” Tony’s voice cracked, his hands cupping Peter’s tearstained, bruised cheeks. In the soft glow of the porch light, his eyes were a blend of rage and concern. “What happened to you? Who did this?”

Peter sobbed, clutching his sides where his skin felt the most tender and dropping his head against Tony’s chest. As the tears waterfalled down his cheeks and his frame trembled, he cursed at himself. “I’m such an idiot, Tony. I-I shouldn’t have come. I’m-”

“It’s alright.” Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, surprised when he winced. “I’ll handle it. Just tell me who did this to you.” He brought a soothing hand to Peter’s hair, gently threading through the curls despite the anger quaking through his body. “Please. Just tell me.”

Peter could barely get the names out through the tears, but once he did – a shaky _Clint and Loki did it_ – Tony’s whole body tensed and his expression was overcast by a bloodthirsty cloud. His wild eyes were just as breathtaking, but there was no mischievous grin. Instead, his lips were pressed into a hard line, scowling with the rest of his face as he cracked his knuckles like he was loading a gun. And the way he pulled off that signature jacket and draped it over Peter’s shoulders was more cautious, showing his control even as he walked through his fiery rage. There was no nonchalant quip, no fanfare, just a firm voice saying _hold this for me, baby. I’ll be right back._

This time, however, Peter didn’t just stand there. He followed Tony inside, leading him to the room where it all happened, wanting nothing more than to see that notorious violence turned on his cruel bullies.

The collective look of shock was satisfying, but the way Tony gripped Clint’s collar, yanking him to his feet and punching him in the jaw, was even more so. The punches continued; rapid hits to the face that happened within seconds of entering the room. Blood started dripping from Clint’s nose and mouth, and before anyone could say anything, Clint was falling limp against the carpet.

“What the fuck, Stark?!” Natasha screamed, moving to put herself between Clint and Tony, trying to stand up for her partner in crime.

Tony grabbed her by the shirt as well, “Did you hit him?”

“What?” Natasha snapped, struggling against the hold. “Let me go, you fucking psychopath.”

But Tony’s grip only tightened, his eyes conveying a murderous energy. “I said, _did you hit him?_ ”

Natasha froze like a deer in headlights, “No.”

“Then stay _the fuck_ out of my way.” Tony spat, pushing Natasha aside and delivering a sharp kick to Clint’s torso before turning his attention to Thor and Loki.

“Don’t bring your violence over here, Stark.” Thor weakly warned, flinching just like before; just like a cornered animal.

“Don’t be afraid of him, brother.” Loki stepped forward between Thor and Tony. “If you touch us again, Stark, then we won’t be so nice to your plaything next time.”

“Next time?” Tony repeated with a balled fist and a menacing expression. “You should worry about your own fucking next time.” Then he continued, grabbing Loki by the collar and landing the same kind of rapid punches he used on Clint. These, however, were focused on Loki’s eyes that swelled and turned dark red as Tony unleashed hell through his fists.

Though, Loki didn’t just take it. Even in his arm sling, he threw his own punches and shoves. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t enough. Tony tackled him to the ground, his onslaught unceasing. That is, until Thor stepped forward to try and stop him.

Peter wouldn’t have guessed that Tony carried a knife. Yet, as Thor moved forward, Tony pulled the butterfly knife from his pocket, flipping it open and pointing it at Thor like a promise, not a threat. It was enough to make the whole room hold their breath.

Except for Peter.

No, Peter knew it was time to intervene. Time to tell Tony to stop. Time to be the limiter. Time to step forward, place his hand over Tony’s, and ease the knife away because _it’s okay Tony, let go, give this to me, let me take this._

And the weight of the knife was easier to bear than he thought.

“See, Stark? That’s why you can’t have playthings. They hold you back.” Loki laughed despite the blood dripping from his nose, or the press of Tony’s knee on his torso, or the shocked expression on his brother’s face. “Honestly, what a fucking bitch you are.” Loki taunted.

_Break it._

“What?” Tony asked, his eyes flashing to Peter, who didn’t realize he said that aloud.

“I said, break it.”

And the sound that followed was gruesome. A chilling _snap_ from the leverage Tony gained in pushing Loki’s arm backwards across his knee. A clean break, paired with screaming, cursing, and a litany of uncharacteristic tears from a pair of brothers. Then, a coherent threat from a fed-up boy who stutters too frequently. “Touch me again and I’ll have him break the other one.” A promise dipped in venom and punctuated with the tip of the blade poised just inches away from Loki’s face.

This time, Peter knew how to feel.

His eyes traveled to Clint, struggling as Natasha helped him to his feet. It was brutal – Peter knew that – but he was glad. Glad to see that Clint was hurt and Natasha was scared. Excited by the blood and bruises created in payback. Enjoying the scared look in Thor’s eyes and the pain in Loki’s. It was wrong – _he knew that_ – but he didn’t care. He let himself feel it this time.

Tony took back the knife and pocketed it before taking Peter's hand in his own. "Let's get out of here."

Peter let Tony lead him out of the house and into the car, where they sat in silence for as long as it took Tony to calm himself. It wasn't awkward or deafening or suffocating, it was just peaceful silence and Peter found solace in it too. A moment to reflect on the dark part of himself that bubbled over amid the alcohol-fueled confidence and the vengeful pain of his assault. A moment to notice he wasn’t crying or trembling. A moment to realize that he threatened Loki; that he chose fight, and it worked.

It was a satisfying moment.

Tony, on the other hand, seemed to take on Peter’s nerves in full. His breath was heavy with sighs and his hands were shaky as he frantically wiped the blood that stained them into the black of his t-shirt. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have- _fuck_ , I did it again. The fucking knife. I- Are you mad? Please don’t be mad.” He dropped his head in his hands. “I couldn’t stop myself. I just- I was so mad seeing you crying and I- _fuck_ , Pep and Bruce were right about me. I’m-”

“I’m not mad, Tony,” Peter whispered as he reached his hand out to card through Tony’s hair.

“But I-?”

“You fought because I let you fight.”

“But that shouldn’t be your responsibility, Peter. Bruce hated me for that. I can’t-”

“I’m not Bruce.” Peter was firm. “I’m not Pepper either.”

“Peter-”

“Everyone keeps telling me about how violent you are. How you’re this dangerous bad boy that I need to steer clear of, but they’re wrong.” Peter grabbed Tony’s hand, interlocking their fingers. “When I look at you, I see a sweet misunderstood guy who drives me home from school, helps me with my homework and does the dishes after dinner. The guy that sings in his car and worries about his friends. The guy that chooses to use his strength to protect the people he cares about.”

“Peter, that’s nice, but-” Tony paused, inhaling a deep breath. “It doesn’t change the fact that I can never control myself.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m yours, but you’re mine too. I’ll control you.” Peter squeezed Tony’s hand. “And, yes, breaking someone’s arm is bad – really, really bad,” Peter giggled. “But I’m worse for asking you to do it. I’m worse for liking it.”

“You liked it?” Tony smirked, holding their interlocked hands up so he could press a kiss onto the back of Peter’s hand.

“Y-Yeah, it’s weird.” Peter blushed, averting his gaze. “I’m weird.”

“You’re not weird, baby,” Tony whispered against Peter’s hand. “I liked seeing you too. Seeing you threaten the trash like that,” He smiled, pressing kisses down Peter’s wrist. “Seeing that knife in your cute hands,” His final kiss was wetter. “And seeing that look in your eyes when you did it.”

Peter’s breath caught in his throat, “Um...we s-should- let’s go back to my place.”

“What about your aunt?”

“May is out on a date. She’ll be gone for most of the night.”

**~*~*~**

When Tony and Peter entered the apartment, the atmosphere between them became torrid. Each interaction heated by the thoughts of what they went there to do. Kicking off their shoes with flushed faces, stripping off their jackets with lingering eye contact, walking down the hall in a suggestive silence. Their already rapid heartbeats ramping into overdrive as they breached the threshold into Peter’s room. The only light pouring from a small lamp on the desk and illuminating their excitement for each other.

Peter was nervous, but Tony was brave. The bad boy sat against the edge of the bed with a tantalizing smile dancing on his lips as he looked Peter up and down like a meal; undressing the younger boy with his eyes like a man starved. He licked the length of his bottom lip and grabbed the hem of his black shirt, pulling it over his head in one swift motion, letting the fabric pool against the floor. “Come here, baby.” He whispered, holding his hand out.

And Peter stepped towards him slowly, taking in the captivating shirtlessness and the unmistakable arousal it caused. He slid his hand into Tony’s, allowing the older boy to pull him closer, guide him to the space between his legs. It was there that Peter’s body buzzed with desire. All of the thoughts whirring through his mind painted over by his lust for Tony Stark.

Tony placed his hands against Peter’s thighs first, dragging upward over the dips of his waist and underneath the bottom of his shirt. Freely dragging his palms across the smooth skin, but stopping when Peter winced.

“S-Sorry,” Peter mumbled, his hands ghosting over his waist. “I’m just- the bruises are still tender, so-”

Tony shook his head, “Don’t apologize.” He whispered, keeping his eyes locked on Peter’s as he pushed the younger’s shirt up and pressed a kiss beneath his belly button. “I’ll be real gentle for you, baby.”

“Tony,” Peter nervously gasped, the simple kiss sending fiery tingles throughout his body.

Tony smiled, one hand caressing the back of Peter’s thigh, the other tugging gently on the fabric of Peter’s shirt. “Can you take this off for me?”

“Okay,” Peter whispered as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head, jostling his brown curls as he dropped the shirt against the floor. His creamy skin was splotched in dark bruises that ran down his arms and sides. And with once glance at himself, he gave a quiet laugh, “It looks worse than it feels, I swear.”

Tony’s expression turned somber, “I’m sorry for not being there.” He said, pressing more gentle kisses against Peter’s navel, carefully outlining one of the bruises.

“It’s okay, Tony,” Peter placed his hands in Tony’s hair, dragging his fingertips to the nape of his neck and leaving them resting on his shoulders. “Don’t apologize.” He smiled, his face a rosy pink as he lifted his knee, swinging it across Tony’s lap and sliding downward. “Can we- _um_ … kiss again?”

As Peter straddled him, Tony inhaled sharp because he could feel the brush of Peter’s zipper against his own. He wrapped his arms loosely around Peter’s waist, dipping one of his hands in the younger’s back pocket and positioning the other on the side of Peter’s thigh. “Yeah,” He breathed out as he eagerly leaned forward, pressing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss.

Peter moaned into it, dropping his weight until the space between their chests was nonexistent. His hands naturally threaded into Tony’s hair and his eyes fluttered closed as he succumbed to Tony’s practiced kissing. Letting the older boy’s tongue dip into his mouth; letting his teeth softly pull at his bottom lip. The moment felt electric, especially when Tony’s hand moved up his thigh, cautiously skimming across the tender bruises and stopping against his nipple, rolling it beneath his fingertips.

Goosebumps rushed across Peter’s skin at the touch. He inched back, breaking the kiss and staring down at Tony’s hand like it was magic. “That feels different when you do it.”

“When _I_ do it, hm?” Tony flicked the soft nub, watching with a playful grin as Peter flinched. “You touch yourself here, baby?”

Peter nodded, his hands gripping at Tony’s shoulders as the pleasure pooled, causing his erection to stiffen painfully under the restrictive denim.

Tony scoffed as he pinched at the nipple hard enough to pull a surprised gasp from the younger boy. “Use your words, baby.”

“T-That’s not fair,” Peter dropped his head against Tony’s shoulder, hiding his surely red face. “You said you’d be gentle.”

“That was gentle, sweetheart.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s neck. “I could’ve been much rougher.”

“Rougher than _that_?”

“So much rougher than that,” Tony whispered against Peter’s ear.

Peter shivered and turned his head to whisper back, a low and fervid, “Can you show me?”

And without warning, Tony clutched the underside of Peter’s thighs and stood, lifting the younger boy, who gasped in surprise and reactively locked his legs around Tony’s waist. Then, Tony turned and slowly lowered Peter against the sheets, positioning himself between Peter’s spread legs. “Let’s start by getting rid of these.” He said as he popped open the button and zipper and tugged, pulling the jeans and boxers together.

“B-Both?” Peter’s eyes when wide and his hands shot down to cover his now freed erection.

“Yes, both.” Tony gave a soft laugh as he finished pulling the clothes off, tossing them aside. “Move your hands, baby. Let me look at you.” And Tony watched intently as Peter moved his hands away. He watched as Peter’s chest flushed just like his face does. Watched the cute way Peter’s erection twitched in the open air. It was a fucking mouth-watering sight.

As for Peter, his mind brimmed with want, and nerves, and Tony. This was his first time being completely bare in front of someone else; someone whose half-lidded eyes were intense with longing and whose fingers were making their way to his mouth.

“Open,” Tony commanded and Peter obliged, parting his lips and letting the older boy’s fingers slide into his mouth. “Good, now suck.”

And Peter did; closing his lips and sucking, massaging the pad of his tongue against the two digits. He tried to keep his eyes trained on Tony’s but sometimes they would wander downward, across the contour of the older boy’s muscles and – _fuck_ – suddenly, Tony’s fingers pushed deeper, probing the back of his throat, making him cough.

Peter’s hands shot up, pulling Tony’s fingers from his mouth. “W-What are you doing?”

“Showing you how deep I want to shove my dick.” Tony grinned as he nudged his wet fingers against the head of Peter’s erection, mixing the saliva and pre-cum before smearing them down the shaft. “That okay, baby?”

Peter breathed a harsh, “ _Y-Yes._ ” A wave of pleasure rocking through his body at the touch. His hips jolting upward and his head lolling back against the pillow, moaning as Tony began his torturously slow strokes.

“You look so fucking hot, Peter,” Tony whispered, leaning down to lick Peter’s nipple; kiss it, roll it between his teeth. “Looking like you’re about to come when I’m barely touching you.”

Tony’s compliment went right to Peter’s head, adding to the pleasure tightening at his core. If he was honest, Tony was right. Alone, he usually got there fast but, with Tony, he was getting there at lightspeed. Already teetering on his edge from the blend of sensations. He was one quick stroke away from spilling all over, so he moaned a shaky, “ _I am_.”

And nothing prepared him for the abrupt lack of touch and the intense desire it left in its wake. Peter’s hips flinched upward, chasing Tony’s hand as it pulled away, leaving him in a needy haze. “What- why did- no, Tony, I was _there_ \- I-”

“I know, baby,” Tony pressed a kiss to Peter’s forehead. “But you don’t get to come until I say so.”

Peter whined, pouting up at the older boy, with distressed and horny eyes, “Can you say so now?”

“Fuck, you’re so cute,” Tony smiled and sat up, shifting his weight to his knees. “But not yet, sweetheart.” He whispered as he undid his jeans. His toned body flexing in the dim light as he pushed his jeans and boxers down slightly, freeing his hardened length and nudging it against Peter’s.

Peter had to actively prevent his jaw from dropping. Tony’s dick was _big_ – actually, _bigger_ – it made Peter’s length seem small. It even felt different; it was thicker, harder and, maybe his feelings and arousal created bias, but to Peter, Tony’s dick was fucking perfect. A shiver ran through his body at the thought of it in his mouth.

“Having fun?” Tony interrupted and Peter froze, blushing when he realized that he’d been grinding his hips up, desperately rubbing their dicks together from the moment they touched.

“I- um.. s-sorry, I-” Peter stammered, bringing his hands up to hide his embarrassed expression.

“You, what?” Tony laughed quietly, ghosting his hands across Peter’s thighs. “Speak up, baby.”

“I- I just- I wanted to touch it,” Peter muttered through his hands.

“Well, lucky for you, I’m going to let you touch it all you want.”

Then, Tony repositioned them. He stood and guided Peter to lay with his head tipped backward off the edge of the bed. The bed’s height was ideal for this, he thought, as he aligned the head of his erection with Peter’s lips. “Open,” Tony commanded but, this time, Peter hesitated.

“Tony, I’ve never- Just- go slow, okay?”

“Okay,” Tony nodded, gently brushing his fingers against Peter’s cheek. “I’ve got you, baby.” He smiled when Peter parted his lips, “Good, now take a nice deep breath for me.”

And Peter did; inhaled deep as Tony pushed forward, pressing his dick into Peter’s mouth until it couldn’t go any deeper. Peter gripped at the sheets and squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the pleasured groans that fell from Tony’s mouth. And even though Peter was struggling to hold his breath, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

Tony pulled out slow – a string of saliva connecting the head of his dick to Peter’s lips, dripping against Peter’s face. “Breathe,” He whispered and watched Peter’s chest expand before pushing forward again. This time, he went even deeper, pushing passed the back of Peter’s mouth, causing a small bulge to show through his neck.

Peter coughed, his drool spurting out around Tony’s dick as he reactively pushed Tony’s hips away. He gasped and coughed again, turning his head to let the excess saliva drop against the floor.

“You okay?” Tony asked, dragging his hands through Peter’s hair. “Was that too much?”

“No,” Peter turned his head back. “I want it harder.”

Tony’s breath hitched, “Yeah?” He squeezed his hand, grabbing a tight handful of Peter’s curls, making the younger boy whine. “You want it harder, baby?”

As Peter opened his mouth to answer, Tony was pushing forward again, quicker than before, plunging deep enough to see the shape of his dick in the contours of Peter’s neck. And he held himself there, indulging in the pleasure of the younger’s fluttering throat, before pulling out half-way and pushing back in. He repeated this in quick succession, occasionally pulling out fully so Peter could catch his breath.

“This hard enough for you, sweetheart?” Tony teased, keeping his dick plunged inside so all Peter could do was moan around it.

And Peter loved it. The feeling of being used and the sounds of Tony’s ecstasy. He thought it would be difficult – controlling his breath while having a dick shoved down his throat – but once he fell into a rhythm, it was easy. And, soon, Tony’s dick was at its thickest, pulsating and leaking pre-cum. His orgasm was close and the way he talked about it made Peter feel hornier than he has in his entire life.

“I’m going to come all over you, baby. You want that, hm? God, you’re so fucking perfect, Peter. Look at how well you’re taking me. You’re so good, baby boy. _Fuck_ , keep your mouth open for me-”

Tony pulled out as he came, groaning deep and shooting lines of cum against Peter’s open mouth and chest. And Peter’s never tasted cum before but he swallowed it like it was nothing, his throbbing arousal completely overshadowing the gravity of the situation.

“ _Tony_ , me too. _Please._ ”

“Of course, baby.” Tony smiled, shifting their positions so Peter was sitting on the edge of the bed and Tony was on his knees between Peter’s thighs.

Peter’s whole body shook when Tony started sucking. The pleasure hitting him like it was a tsunami and he was the beach. The way Tony dragged his tongue against the underside of the shaft made Peter’s nerve endings tingle with fiery sparks of euphoria. And when Tony bobbed his head low enough to take it all, Peter swore he fell into delirium. “Tony, I’ll come- I’ll- I’m-!”

Yet, just as Peter took a step towards orgasm, Tony stopped. He gripped at the base of Peter’s length, viciously yanking him back to the edge, preventing his climax for the second time that night. But before Peter had time to complain, Tony was pulling him down and pinning him against the side of the bed.

Tony stared into Peter’s eyes and started stroking again, “Go ahead, baby, you can come.”

Peter immediately averted his gaze, unable to handle the embarrassment of suddenly being so close. “But Tony, I-”

Tony scoffed and lifted his idle hand to the underside of Peter’s jaw, forcing the younger’s eyes back to his. “It wasn’t a question, baby.” He whispered, squeezing his fingers against the sides of Peter’s throat, “I told you to come.”

So Peter came; a breathless scream falling from his lips as a tremor shook his body and his cum oozed all over Tony’s hand. It was an overwhelming pleasure – nothing like anything he’s felt on his own. And as he floated down from his sweltering high, Tony released his throat and leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead.

“Are you okay, baby?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah, that was amazing.

“Yeah.”

And for a while, they stayed there, bodies pressed together in a content embrace, sticky from their passion and audibly panting from their ardor, but content nonetheless. Basking in the feeling of their intimate moment; an exchange of sweet nothings, a soothing caress, a medley of soft giggles. A litany of playful kisses, a cascade of fingertips carded through messy hair, a breathtaking empathetic chemistry. All topped with promises of tomorrow and the days after, where they belonged to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Check out my Tumblr @obligatorynasty

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I’ll Be the Fight to Your Flight, Baby.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23876767) by [snowkido](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkido/pseuds/snowkido)




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